“Help, Ned! Help!” roared Herc.
But Ned had all he could do to help himself right then. Like so many
ants swarming upon and attacking an interloper in their domains, the
little brown men had swarmed upon him, also. The brawny arms of the
Dreadnought Boy flung them off right and left, and as they fell back in
the crowd they knocked over more of the clustering people like balls in
a bowling alley.
“Hurray! A king-pin!” cried Ned, as down went five or six of the Japs
in a heap.
But before the words were fairly out of his mouth, more of the men
leaped upon him from behind. By a quick movement, Ned fell backwards,
crushing the breath out of his surprised opponents. He was up again
in a jiffy, only to find that he was still assailed by uncountable
numbers. They swarmed like flies round a honey-pot, and do what he
would, the boy could not shake them off.
A short way from him he saw Herc being borne down, and then saw him
struggle to his feet again.
“Whoop! Huroo!” yelled Herc suddenly.
Around the corner had come a string of ’rickshaws, each containing two
jolly tars.
“_Manhattans_, ahoy!” bawled Herc.
“Ahoy, mates!” shouted the sailors in the foremost ’rickshaw, and then,
as they saw who it was, they set up a yet louder yell.
“Come on, ship-mates! To the rescue! Hurray for Red-Head!”
“Hurry up!” shouted Herc.
The Jap ’rickshaw pullers dropped their shafts and ran for their lives.
They had no desire to get mixed up in a mêlée. Out of the odd rigs in
which they had been enjoying a sight-seeing spin, the sailors came
jumping. Many of them were from the _Manhattan_, and several were from
other ships. But both Dreadnought Boys were general favorites and in a
jiffy the Japs were parting right and left as the American seamen waded
in to the rescue of their ship-mates.
Five minutes after the arrival of the men-o’war’s-men not a Jap was to
be seen, and the two boys were explaining how they had come to get into
trouble.
“Red-Head, as usual,” laughed a tar from the _Manhattan_. “Strong, you
ought to leave him tied up some place when you come ashore.”
“I like that! Haven’t I the right to take a bite to eat when I see an
old wooden idol letting good grub go to waste?” expostulated Herc.
“When you’re in Rome, do as the Romans do,” put in another sailor,--the
one whom the sailors nick-named “Ben Franklin.” “In some parts of the
island your appetite might have been gone for good after your escapade,
Master Red-Head.”
“How is that?” sputtered Herc.
Ben Franklin made an expressive gesture, signifying that Herc might
have lost his head for his prank.
“Woof!” exclaimed Ned’s chum, “that would have been a fine dessert.
Come on, ship-mates, I’m going back to the ship and sleep in the
magazine. It’s safer than it is ashore.”
“For _you_ it is, anyhow,” chuckled a tar. “But hullo, mates, where are
all the ’rickshaw men? They’ve all gone.”
“Scared away, I reckon,” laughed another, a man off the _Idaho_. “Tell
you what we’ll do, we’ll be our own ’rickshaw pullers.”
“Hooray!” cried the men; and amidst a great to-do and lots of laughter
the blue-jackets placed themselves between the shafts, the fortunate
riders (whose turn at pulling was to come later on) shouting with glee.
“Get up there!” roared Ben Franklin at Herc, and off the red-headed
youth darted at top speed.
“Whoa! Whoa!” bawled the philosophic sailor, “not so fast! Take in
sail, mate! Shorten sail! Rocks ahead!”
The warning came too late. One wheel of the ’rickshaw struck a rock at
the edge of a little bridge and Ben Franklin, amidst the roars of the
tars, went sky-rocketing into space over the rail of the bridge. He
landed in a lot of soft mud and injured nothing but his dignity.
“You’re a horse that needs breaking,” he said to Herc, as he took his
seat once more in the ’rickshaw; and, despite all Herc’s pleadings, he
was compelled to pull the mud-stained Ben all through the streets of
Yokahama as a punishment for his skylarking.
The ’rickshaws were left at the ’rickshaw stand near the docks where
it was certain that their owners would reclaim them. Then the liberty
parties embarked and were towed back to their ships by the various
steamers.
So ended a stay in Yokahama, not a quarter of the details of which
we have had space to describe. The fleet there, as everywhere, met
unbounded enthusiasm and entertainment, and thousands of post cards
and photographs were sent home to the United States by the Jackies. A
big naval parade and a review of the fleet by the local dignitaries
served still further to impress upon the Far East Uncle Sam’s place and
dignity as a sea-power.
Many weeks now passed uneventfully. The fleet stopped at Melbourne and
Sidney, the two chief places on the island continent of Australia.
But at neither of these towns did the boys go ashore, as there were
others to take their turns at shore leave. However, from what they
heard they judged that the two cities named did not differ materially
from any progressive, modern American community, so that they were
not so disappointed as they would have been in strange lands among
foreign-speaking peoples.
Ahead of them lay Egypt and a planned trip to the Pyramids and the
Sphinx, and the wonders of Gibraltar with a side excursion into Spain.
All this helped to enliven their anticipations and made them regret all
the less that their liberty was curtailed at the Australian cities.
Through the Indian Ocean, across the blisteringly hot Red Sea,
the fleet had made its way, and now it was on what the Jackies
called the “home stretch.” One blazingly hot afternoon the long
line of battleships swung into the Gulf of Suez on its way to the
Mediterranean. Speed was reduced to four knots in accordance with the
rules of the canal which they were approaching. The sailors fretted
as the great ships crept along, seeming barely to move. On each side
extended the glittering, barren desert. Occasionally a cavalcade of
camel men passed. That was about all that relieved the monotony. But
just the same, Ned was impressed. All about them lay a wonderful region
famed in song and story.
“Herc, do you know that the Holy Land lies almost within reach of the
guns of this ship?” asked Ned, as the two lads leaned over the side of
the shaded forecastle drinking in a slight breeze which had sprung up
at sun-down. But even the wind was more like the blast from an oven
door than a cooling zephyr, after its passage over the blazing sands of
the desert.
“Is that so?” inquired Herc rather listlessly.
“Yes, Palestine, Damascus and Jerusalem are all within range.”
“How about Jericho?” inquired Herc.
“I don’t know about that.”
“I’ve been told to go there so often that if it’s handy I’d like to
make the trip,” grinned Herc.
“We are going to anchor at Suez.”
“Well?”
“There is a line there that connects with Cairo. From the latter city
we can go to visit the great Pyramids. Several of the men are going.
I have talked to them about it. I guess shore leave will be extended
to-morrow, and we may get as many as three days off, as the ships are
going to coal.”
“That’s a good time to get away from them,” said Herc; “it is like
living in a black snow storm.”
“Yonder is Suez, lads, over the port bow,” said a master’s-mate who was
passing.
The boys scampered over and beheld a picture that they never forgot.
Against the blazing red and gold of the evening sky, the dome and
minarets of the ancient city stood out blackly like fret-work cut out
of ebony. The mellow sound of bells and gongs calling to evening prayer
could be heard and combined to make the picture a memorable one.
The ships came to anchor as dusk fell, and lights began to twinkle
ashore. Strange-looking pirogues and other native boats began to dart
about among the steel leviathans like so many fire-flies. Sounds of
drums and weird Oriental music floated off the shore to the ships. Now
and then would be heard the wailing cry of some worshiper high in a
minaret. This mingled with laughter and tinkling sounds of stringed
instruments in the boats that glided about in the harbor, their
occupants intent on seeing the wonderful fighting ships of the great
Western nation.
The bugles that commanded “Hammocks up!” disturbed the peaceful scene
rudely.
“Come, Herc, time to turn in,” reminded Ned.
“Oh, bother the bugle, I could stand here all night. It beats Coney
Island.”
“Is that the best comparison you can find? Come on. We must be out
early to-morrow and get ashore in the first boats.”
Reluctantly both boys turned away, as did hundreds of their ship-mates.
Before long there was silence in the ship and aboard all the other grim
fighting-craft. Then, like a benison, the sweet, low notes of “taps”
echoed mournfully through the anchored fleet.
All lights but anchor lights disappeared instantly. Darkness enshrouded
the sleeping fleet. Only on deck the regular footsteps of the sentries
and the cry of the watch as the bell struck the hours, broke the
silence that brooded above the desert and the desert sea.