BY WIRELESS
Phil gazed at Sydney for an inspiration. How could he persuade this
clever Chinaman? For he read his intelligence in his face. Why not
confide to him his entire plan? The possibility of keeping these ships,
of which the lad saw he was proud to the point of conceit, might be a
potent factor.
“As I have here two conflicting letters from the Wai-Wu-Pu,” Admiral
Ting said, after a painful silence, “my duty is quite plain. I must use
my own discretion.”
“Admiral Ting,” Phil exclaimed suddenly, finding his voice at last, “if
you will hear my plan, I can save your ships for China and defeat the
aims of this scheming rascal.” Phil’s face was flushed as he pointed an
accusing finger at Impey. “There is a harbor on the coast of Paragua
in the Philippine Islands. The entrance is narrow, but with sufficient
water for a battle-ship, and inside, your ships can anchor securely and
be invisible from the outside.” The lad’s voice was eager and earnest
and made a visible impression on the Chinaman.
“I know the channel, having been there on a small gunboat and made a
survey of the bay; I can pilot you in. There we can make terms with the
world by wireless without either of the disputing countries discovering
our whereabouts.”
“Your Excellency,” Impey exclaimed with a harsh laugh, “you must see
that this is the talk of a romantic boy. It is unlikely that there is
any such place, and from my knowledge of the coast of Paragua Island,
I would advise you not to risk your ships. It is a rocky and dangerous
coast, and the charts are worse than useless.”
Phil would have answered Impey’s sally by a denial, but Admiral Ting’s
answer made it unnecessary.
“Mr. Perry, I will follow you,” he said quietly, rising from his chair
and escorting them to the gangway, where their boat was waiting. “If we
are successful you will have won the thanks of three nations and the
applause of the civilized world.”
“And the dislike of a denationalized rascal,” Phil added with joy in
his voice and a triumphant glance at the discomfited Impey as they
passed down the gangway into the waiting boat.
With the “Sylvia” leading, the Chinese squadron steamed through the
Singapore Straits and out into the China Sea. All the world soon knew
that the coveted squadron had passed the city of Singapore, for it was
cabled from there to every country. Then it disappeared as completely
as if it had been swallowed up by the sea; days passed, and no news
came of its arrival in any port.
It was the great mystery of the hour. The newspapers strained every
effort and spared no expense to discover its whereabouts but without
success.
The “Sylvia” had steered northwest, heading directly for the unknown
bay on the coast of the Island of Paragua. A close watch was kept both
during the day and night for the smoke of other vessels, but the course
taken was so far out of the regular track of steamers plying between
ports in the Orient that luckily none were sighted. The midshipmen
desired that no eye should discover the position and destination of the
squadron for fear that it would inform the world and cause searching
war-ships to be sent to bring them back to civilization.
On the third day, after leaving Singapore, the high, densely-wooded
coast of Paragua Island loomed before them, and before sunset the
entire Chinese squadron had been piloted to a safe anchorage inside
Malampaya Sound. Once inside, as Phil had said, the ships were as if
at anchor in an inland lake. The sea was not visible and there were no
signs of life ashore. The beach of the bay was lined with dense and
impenetrable mangrove bushes, and back of that was the primeval forest.
“We are as completely cut off from the outside world as if we had
landed on the planet Mars,” Phil exclaimed gleefully as he and Sydney
returned from the Chinese flag-ship to the yacht. “Now we must possess
our souls in patience; it would not do to communicate yet.”
Phil read the inquiry in Sydney’s face, so he continued to explain.
“We were seen passing Singapore three days ago, and if we used our
wireless now to let the world know we are still on the earth, those
with an analytical mind could figure out just how far from Singapore we
must have come, and then a search might prove disastrous to our plans.
The situation is one our rich newspapers would delight to unravel;
they would spare no expense to find us by chartering if need be every
steamship in the Orient and sending them out to hunt us down.”
Sydney nodded in ready understanding of the soundness of his friend’s
reasoning.
The wireless apparatus of the Chinese ships, by Admiral Ting’s orders,
had been completely dismantled to be sure that no accident could mar
the midshipmen’s plans. Phil had feared that some enemy might exist
among the ships who could during the watches of the night send out to
the many listening stations bordering the China Sea, the much sought
intelligence as to the location of the Chinese squadron.
The wireless of the “Sylvia” alone was in working order, and the two
sailormen and the midshipmen took turns both by day and night in
the little wireless room. Every message heard through the telephone
receiver was written down and read.
From these mysterious messages grasped from the boundless air the lads
heard of the consternation throughout the world. “Where is the Chinese
squadron?” was on every lip. They learned that the Japanese fleet had
arrived at Singapore, where the ships had coaled from their colliers,
and after a few days of indecision had sailed again, steering to the
northward.
The United States fleet had remained quietly at anchor in Manila Bay.
Takishima, during these long days of waiting, had been allowed his
freedom, and as the days passed, the sadness slowly gave way to
cheerfulness and amusement at the ludicrous situation. Impey, with
all his villainy, had openly congratulated the midshipmen upon their
masterful control of the situation.
“It’s worth losing to have witnessed it,” he exclaimed as he read
the messages faithfully recorded by the sailormen in the wireless
room. Over a week dragged slowly by, and the anxious wait told on the
midshipmen.
The Chinese admiral came on board the yacht daily, and the more the
lads came to know him the more they respected and liked him. He was
the type of the Oriental that was fast being born out of that kingdom
of antiquity, unfettered by the prejudices of conservatism. A new and
enlightened China had been his purpose.
“Here’s what we’ve been waiting for,” O’Neil called out at last from
the wireless room, his voice joyful and triumphant, while Phil met the
boatswain’s mate in the salon waving a paper on which had been roughly
penciled a message just intercepted.
“Manila was sending it to our admiral; he is somewhere in the southern
islands of the Philippines,” the sailor exclaimed, handing Phil the
paper. “He’s looking for us, I guess,” he added with a grin.
The lad received it, his hand trembling with excitement, and read aloud
the words with a fast beating heart.
“The United States and Japan have concluded a treaty of better
understanding over affairs in the Far East. Each has disclaimed any
intention of acquiring the lost Chinese squadron.”
The paper fluttered from Phil’s hand to the deck and a faintness
suddenly came over him. But on his young face a great joy was written
as he aroused himself and actually hugged the astonished O’Neil.
Sydney and Marley stood by, their faces wreathed in happy smiles.
“Signal this to the Chinese admiral at once, Syd,” Phil cried joyfully,
“and come on, O’Neil; we’ll call up our admiral and solve the mystery
of the Chinese squadron.”
Two days afterward the new Chinese navy, with their dragon banners
fluttering in the breeze, steamed toward their own country. Admiral
Ting wrung the midshipmen’s hands warmly in parting, and heaped upon
them many handsome gifts from artistic China, declaring that his
Emperor would decorate them with the “Order of the Dragon” for their
great service to the Dragon Kingdom.
It was with hearts full of joy that they turned the bow of the
“Sylvia” northward with Yokohama as their destination. Impey and his
co-conspirators had been sent away on the Chinese ships. Randall and
Wells were truly penitent, and told O’Neil that hereafter they would
live honest lives. Impey was game to the last, only remarking as he was
bidden a cold good-bye by the Americans that “one couldn’t always win.”
Poor, disconsolate Takishima! He alone was the one thorn in the
midshipmen’s happiness.
On the way north the lads sent a long cipher message to the “Alaska,”
telling of Takishima’s loyalty in his Emperor’s cause. The message was
to Captain Inaba as the friend of all concerned.
The following morning Phil and Sydney entered Takishima’s cabin. The
lieutenant was sitting with his head in his hands, while on his face
was an expression of great sadness.
“Here’s a message for you, Taki,” Phil said, his voice trembling with
joy.
Takishima took the paper from Phil’s hand and cast his eyes listlessly
over the first line. Then his face relaxed and he drew himself up
smartly, reading now quickly and eagerly the words before him.
“TO LIEUTENANT TAKISHIMA,
“_via_ U. S. S. ‘ALASKA.’
“His Majesty our Emperor has commanded me to inform you that your
zeal, patriotism and good judgment under trying circumstances, which
have come to his august notice, have caused him to honor you with the
‘Order of the Rising Sun of the First Class’ and appoint you one of
His Majesty’s naval aides. I take pleasure in congratulating you on
your high good fortune.
“KAMIKURA,
“_Minister of Marine_.”
Then for several minutes after he had finished, his head remained
sunk on his breast and his eyes on the floor. Phil had laid his hand
affectionately on his shoulder, while in his eyes was a slight trace of
manly tears. Takishima turned and both lads saw the joy in his face.
“I don’t deserve it,” he said humbly, “and I owe His Majesty’s clemency
to you, I feel sure.”
“To your own high sense of honor and patriotism to your Emperor,” Phil
answered earnestly.
It was fortunate that the day after the “Sylvia’s” arrival in
Yokohama, the “Alaska” was to return to Manila to rejoin the fleet,
which was under orders to return to the United States. If the “Alaska”
had stayed longer it is sure that the midshipmen’s heads would have
been completely turned by the many honors heaped upon them.
On the night before sailing there was given a large dinner by Admiral
Kamikura, the memory of which remained long in Phil’s mind.
His neighbors at the table were Helen and Takishima, and the atmosphere
was electric with good fellowship. No cloud marred the clear sky of
understanding.
After the dinner there was a small party collected at the embassy
to bid farewell to the ambassador and his daughter, and to them the
midshipmen told the full story of the cruise of the “Sylvia.”
“It wasn’t until the Japanese fleet had arrived in Singapore and
reported no trace of the Chinese squadron that we were sure that
you had been successful,” Captain Rodgers explained after Phil had
recounted the adventure.
“And then in five days more, and meanwhile nothing had been heard from
the ‘phantom fleet,’ as it was called in the American newspapers,” he
continued, “we heard that the Japanese fleet had returned to Japan.”
“Then the Minister of Marine came to me,” the ambassador took up the
thread of the story where Captain Rodgers had left off, “and asked if
Captain Rodgers and I still desired the audience with the Emperor.
“I assured him above all things it was desired, and the next day the
audience was an accomplished fact and the new treaty the outcome.”
The ambassador beamed down upon the attentive midshipmen.
“It’s a great pity our government will not allow our officials to
accept foreign orders,” he added. “I am sure if it did, the ‘Alaska’
would sail away from Japan loaded down with them.”
O’Neil and Bill Marley had returned to the armored cruiser but had been
allowed to return to Tokyo to attend a dinner given to O’Neil by his
old friend “Billy” Williams. The crowds that gathered about the little
restaurant to catch a glimpse of the two noted sailors was one of the
biggest advertisements “Billy” Williams ever had.
But all things must have an end, and the happy party at the
ambassador’s could be no exception. Good-byes were said and the
carriages were waiting.
Phil found himself alone with Helen only for the fraction of a minute,
but in that time among other favors he had been given a certain gold
locket that he valued more than any foreign decoration that might have
been bestowed upon him.
Takishima and Captain Inaba met the party at the railroad station and
escorted them to a special train, and as they pulled out from the long
platform the midshipmen’s last glimpse was of their two friends, hats
in hand above their heads, crying loudly “Banzai”--ten thousand years
of happiness!
Other Stories in this Series are:
A U. S. MIDSHIPMAN AFLOAT
A U. S. MIDSHIPMAN IN CHINA
A U. S. MIDSHIPMAN IN THE PHILIPPINES
FOOTNOTES:
[1] Bushido to the code of chivalry in old Japan.
[2] The Japanese writing is backward from the end of a book or letter
to the front.
[3] Japanese term for dock.
TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES:
Italicized text is surrounded by underscores: _italics_.
Obvious typographical errors have been corrected.
Inconsistencies in hyphenation have been standardized.
Archaic or alternate spelling has been retained from the original.