[Illustration: _HE SEIZED THE OUTSTRETCHED HAND_]
A
UNITED STATES
MIDSHIPMAN
IN JAPAN
_by_
Lt. Com. Yates Stirling Jr. U.S.N.
Author of
“A U.S. Midshipman Afloat”
“A U.S. Midshipman in China”
“A U.S. Midshipman in the Philippines”
[Illustration]
Illustrated _by_ Ralph L. Boyer
THE PENN PUBLISHING
COMPANY PHILADELPHIA
MCMXI
COPYRIGHT
1911 BY
THE PENN
PUBLISHING
COMPANY
[Illustration]
Introduction
Philip Perry and Sydney Monroe are young officers in the United States
navy. Although they have been out of the Naval Academy less than two
years, and are still ranked as midshipmen, they have seen active
service, as related in “A United States Midshipman Afloat” and “A
United States Midshipman in China.” “A United States Midshipman in
the Philippines” tells how Phil, with Sydney for executive officer,
commanded a small gunboat in expeditions against the insurgents.
Boatswain Jack O’Neil has been with the lads in many of their hazardous
adventures, and the three are now on the “U. S. S. Alaska” in Japanese
waters.
The story deals with a misunderstanding between the United States and
the Island Kingdom. This complication causes a few days of anxiety
to both nations, and gets some people into serious difficulties but,
needless to say, it is purely fictitious.
Contents
I. THE MAN IN THE NEXT COMPARTMENT 9
II. IN THE EMPEROR’S GARDENS 20
III. WAR TALK 48
IV. STIRRING UP TROUBLE 67
V. WHO WROTE THE LETTER? 89
VI. BILL MARLEY’S FIST 117
VII. THE SECRET DOCUMENT 137
VIII. MISUNDERSTANDING 156
IX. MORE DISCOVERIES 176
X. CAPTAIN INABA 191
XI. PHIL CONFESSES 208
XII. THE CONSPIRATORS 224
XIII. THE QUARREL 235
XIV. THE YACHT “SYLVIA” 249
XV. INTERNATIONAL DIPLOMACY 258
XVI. THE DUEL 274
XVII. INDECISION 289
XVIII. A BOLD PLAN 306
XIX. ON THE HIGH SEAS 321
XX. THE “HATSUKE” 336
XXI. THE JAPANESE FLEET 352
XXII. PLOT AND COUNTERPLOT 369
XXIII. BY WIRELESS 384
Illustrations
PAGE
HE SEIZED THE OUTSTRETCHED HAND _Frontispiece_
“WHAT’S THE ROW, SIR?” 82
THE JAPANESE GENTLEMAN WENT DOWN 142
“THIS LETTER TALKS ABOUT A NAVAL REVIEW” 188
“YOU DESERVE A GOOD THRASHING FOR THIS” 242
“EXCEPT WHAT?” SHE ASKED 300
“THERE ARE AT LEAST TWENTY-FIVE SHIPS” 358
A United States Midshipman in Japan
CHAPTER I
THE MAN IN THE NEXT COMPARTMENT
It was one o’clock in the afternoon, and there was unusual activity in
the railroad station at Yokohama. Uniformed officials were scurrying
to and fro, bending every effort to dispose of the great crowd of
stolid Japanese travelers and at the same time, with due formality and
ceremony, provide a special train for their lately arrived American
naval visitors.
So painstaking and anxious were these energetic and efficient little
personages to please those whom their government had chosen to honor,
that suddenly, at a signal, they stemmed the great influx of their own
people, sidetracked the steady and ever-increasing flow of bright
colored silks, and did it as easily as if they were but putting a
freight train on a siding. Not one murmur was heard from the crowd
delayed so abruptly; the travelers waited, talking and laughing
joyfully. To them it was all pleasure. There was no necessity for
haste. When the honorable railroad officials were ready, then there
would be plenty of time for them to get on their trains. They had no
thought of questioning the acts of their Emperor’s officials, who wore
the imperial badge of office--the sixteen petal chrysanthemum.
“Did you ever see such docility on the part of a traveling public?”
Midshipman Philip Perry exclaimed, gazing wonderingly at the
good-natured, smiling faces of the Japanese about him. “Imagine, if you
can, a New York crowd waiting like this at the Grand Central Station
for a dozen Japanese officers to board a special train.”
The midshipman was one of a party of American naval officers, recently
arrived in Japan, and journeying as the guests of the Japanese nation
to their picturesque and historic capital--Tokyo.
Lieutenant Hugh Winston, one of the party, smiled knowingly as he read
the wonder in the eyes of the two youngest of the party, Midshipmen
Perry and Sydney Monroe. Winston was an officer of some years’
standing, and the character of the Japanese subject was one with which
he considered himself on very intimate terms, after three cruises on
the Asiatic Station in American war-ships.
“You can compare the Mikado’s loyal subjects to no others on earth,”
Winston returned. “Every man you see in this crowd has served his
country as a soldier or sailor. All recognize an order when they hear
it, and I can tell you they obey, too.”
There was small doubt of their obedience. The good-humored crowd,
increasing in numbers every minute, stood in orderly merriment watching
the tall representatives of the United States of America, led by
obsequious railroad officials, pass through their midst and into the
coaches of a special train. Following the handful of naval officers
in their severely plain civilian clothes came many score of American
men-of-war’s men dressed in the picturesque sailor garb, while walking
hand in hand with them the little Japanese sailors, the hosts of their
giant visitors, appeared in striking contrast.
The congestion in the traffic of the Tokaido Railroad was soon
relieved; a shrill whistle from one of the officials--and immediately
the wheels were again in motion and the patient Japanese were once more
on their way to their waiting trains.
“A Japanese crowd has no terrors for the public officials,” Lieutenant
Winston said by way of information, as he and the midshipmen settled
themselves in one of the compartments of the tiny coaches of the train.
“In Japan discipline begins at the mother’s knee. Filial obedience is
part of their religion, and they are taught to obey their Emperor as
the father of them all.”
“I have always heard that they are classed among the best fighters in
the world,” Phil Perry said admiringly. “The fighting man with them is
in a class by himself. Isn’t it so?” he asked the older officer at his
side.
“The ‘Samurai,’ or fighting class, is the aristocracy of Japan,”
Winston replied. “They symbolize the fighting barons of our middle
ages; quick to resent an insult or avenge a wrong. Their code of honor
is centuries old. These are the men you will meet in Tokyo. The naval
and military officers are all recruited from the families of the
‘Samurai.’ You will see in them the most polite of a polite nation.”
“What is the object of the ‘Alaska’s’ visit to Japan?” Sydney Monroe
suddenly asked as Winston ended his eulogy on the Japanese race. “Our
relations are not over friendly, if we can believe some of our yellow
journal newspapers.”
“That is not to be discussed except within an air-tight cell,” Winston
returned gravely, a warning ring in his voice. “We are here on a
friendly visit to be present at the garden fête of the Emperor of
Japan.”
Meanwhile the train had glided out of the long, low station shed and
picked its way over a score of tracks to the one leading straight to
the metropolis and capital of the island empire. Stations, consisting
of miniature structures with their long, narrow platforms came noisily
out of the world ahead and were left behind with a waning moan as if
in protest at being given but a fleeting glimpse of the big strangers.
The conversation had come to an abrupt stop after Lieutenant Winston’s
words of caution and the three Americans sat silently gazing out of
their open windows at the ever-changing landscape.
The sailors with their Japanese escorts were in the cars ahead where
they were leaning far out of the windows, excitedly acknowledging the
“banzais” from the groups of peasants who had collected on the station
platforms to see the Americans pass.
Philip Perry restlessly left his seat and walked slowly along the
narrow aisle of the car. He noticed casually in passing that the door
of the compartment next their own was closed, and the blinds drawn. The
other two compartments he saw were empty, for the railroad officials
had provided more than sufficient accommodations for their party. He
reached the car ahead, and stood gazing for a second at the sailors
within. Retracing his steps, he stopped at the side of the car opposite
the compartment next his own. Suddenly he was conscious of a voice
coming through the compartment door which from a closer inspection he
now saw was only ajar. The train had slackened its speed, then noisily
stopped. While he listened the voice died away, and he was on the point
of going to the platform to ascertain the cause of the stoppage of the
train when the voice that had attracted his attention began again,
this time clear and distinct. Phil unconsciously listened, believing
the speaker was one of his brother officers, but what he heard caused
him to catch his breath in surprise. He held himself rigid, straining
to hear every word, while his indignation showed plainly in his set
features.
“Baron, every day you put off this inevitable war with America makes
Japan’s chance for success in the Orient the less,” were the startling
words that Phil heard spoken with a marked British accent. “Now the
opportunity is given you. Her fleet is in Manila, all naval men will
tell you that it must be at a great disadvantage. It lacks supply
ships and torpedo-boat destroyers. Your fleet is here at your source
of supply. Depend upon it, Baron,” the voice declared, in excited,
eager tones, “this cruise has come to mislead you. America knows the
danger surrounding her fleet. She has blundered in sending it so far
from home, and now wishes to safely withdraw it, or strengthen it with
the Chinese ships. It is one thing or the other. You must increase your
efforts with the ministers if your dreams are to be realized.”
Phil’s heart beat wildly as he stood listening, hardly daring to
breathe lest he should betray his presence before he had heard all. The
same voice was again speaking.
“You must know that whatever America will say, it will be insincere.
America covets the entire trade of China, and unless your nation halts
it as you did Russia she will through her rapidly growing wealth
accomplish her end. She is negotiating for the Chinese battle-ships
while this cruiser here will endeavor to allay suspicion. Unless Japan
acts promptly----”
With a succession of jolts the train was again noisily in motion, and
the door of the compartment swung shut with a spiteful click. Phil was
trembling with excitement. Here on the threshold of their visit he had
surprised a plot to force his country into a war. What should he do? He
could not go openly and accuse those in the compartment; that would be
dramatic, but would be barren of results. His best course would be to
discover the identity of the speaker and the man addressed as Baron,
who Phil knew must be a Japanese nobleman, and then warn his captain
of the conspiracy on foot. But how should he be able to discover their
identity? Who could tell him their names?
He could pretend to enter their compartment by mistake, and impress
their faces indelibly upon his memory, to be used at some future time.
With this object in view Phil placed his hand on the door-knob trying
to turn it, only to find the latch had fallen from within. Frustrated,
he stood thinking excitedly as to what his next move should be. The
door of his own compartment suddenly opened and Sydney Monroe, his
companion and classmate at the Naval Academy at Annapolis, gazed in
surprise at the stern set face of his friend.
“What’s the matter, Phil?” he exclaimed. “You look as if you’d just
seen a ghost. Nothing’s wrong, is it?”
Phil held his hand up for silence and entered his own compartment.
“There are people in there,” he exclaimed excitedly, indicating with a
nod, “whom we must recognize and remember. It’s the most barefaced case
of conspiracy that I’ve ever known.” And then he detailed almost word
for word what he had heard.
While he was yet talking and his two companions were listening eagerly,
consternation growing in their excited minds, the train again came to a
halt, but for just a moment, and then was off again.
A few minutes later it was plain that the country had been left behind
and that the suburbs of Tokyo were at hand. The train passed through
row after row of tiny wooden dwellings, built like card houses,
appearing to be ready for some giant hand to smooth them flat. On sped
the train across miniature stone bridges and through beautifully laid
out parks, until a sudden screech of the whistle and the gripping of
the brakes announced that the journey was over, and Tokyo had been
reached.
Phil scarcely waited for the train to stop before he was in the
passage, gazing about in the gloom (the passage being unlighted) for
the occupants of the next compartment. Its door stood open, but they
were not there. He rushed to the platform, but he saw no strange faces,
only his brother officers and the sailors. What could it mean? Then
he understood the meaning of the stop only a few miles before the
train reached Tokyo. The occupants of the next compartment were men of
consequence, and even a special train ordered by the Emperor of Japan
could be stopped at their will.
“Well, I shan’t forget that voice, anyway,” Phil exclaimed
disappointedly to his companions while the three moved slowly toward
the exit gate.