IN THE HOUSE OF SURPRISES
"Dalzell, I wish you would take four men and find the commanding
officer ashore," requested Lieutenant Trent.
"Report to him our present position, as well as what we have done,
and get his instructions."
Saluting, Dan signed to four sailormen to accompany him. Within
an hour he had returned.
"We are going to hold what we have taken of the city, and probably
shall push our lines further into the town. It is believed that
after dark we shall have trouble with Mexican snipers."
"We have had some already," said the lieutenant grimly.
"We believe, sir," Dan reported, "that, after dark, there will
be even more vicious sniping. The Mexicans are in an ugly mood,
and will spare no effort to make us miserable for our audacity
in landing armed men on their soil."
"And our orders?"
"You are directed, Lieutenant, to hold this roof until you have
silenced all sniping within easy range, and then you are to fall
back to the Post-office and report to the senior officer there.
In the meantime you will send in a petty officer and sufficient
force to accompany any of your wounded men who are badly enough
hurt to require a surgeon's attention."
The squad that had accompanied Ensign Dalzell was immediately
ordered to return with the wounded, after which Trent and his
officers gave their whole attention to locating every Mexican
sniper on every roof-top within six hundred yards of their position.
So well was this done that at least a dozen Mexican sharpshooters
were killed within the next hour.
For half an hour after that Trent surveyed every roof-top with his
field glass. As no more shots crossed the roof on which the
detachment was posted, Lieutenant Trent then concluded that his
commission had been executed, and gave the order to return.
The Mexican dead and wounded were left in the building, a notice
being posted on the door in order that the sanitary corps men
might know where to find them. The four uninjured prisoners were
now placed in the center of the detachment, and Trent marched
his command back to the post-office. There the prisoners were
turned over to the custody of the provost officer.
"Step inside, men, and you'll find something to eat," was the
welcome news Trent gave his detachment of men.
Darrin and Dalzell were sent to a restaurant near by, where the
officers were eating a welcome meal.
"Hadn't you better go first, sir?" Darrin asked.
"Simply because I am the ranking officer with this detachment?"
smiled the lieutenant. "You two are younger, and therefore are
probably hungrier than I am."
Dave was the first to finish his meal in the restaurant, and hurried
to relieve Lieutenant Trent of the command of the detachment.
Altogether there were now some two hundred men at the post-office
station; these were being held in readiness to reinforce the American
fighters in any part of the city where they might be needed.
Until after dark the "_Long Island's_" detachment remained there,
enviously watching other detachments that marched briskly away.
As soon as dark had come down, the popping of rifles was almost
continuous.
"I wish we had orders to clear the whole town of snipers," muttered
Danny Grin impatiently.
"Undoubtedly that would take more men than we have ashore," Trent
replied. "There would be no sense in occupying the whole city
until we have driven out every hostile Mexican ahead of us. We
might drive the Mexican soldiers much further, but the trouble
is that hundreds of them have joined in the sport of sniping at
the hated _Americanos_. If we pushed our way through the town,
at once we would then have Mexican firing ahead of us and also
at the rear. No fighting men behave well under such circumstances."
An hour later it became plain that Trent's detachment had some
new work cut out for it, for a commissary officer now directed
that the men be marched down the street to receive rations.
"We're going to have night work all right, then, and perhaps plenty
of it," Darrin declared to his chum. "If we were going to remain
here rations wouldn't be furnished us."
Trent was inside, personally seeing to matters, when a sentry
halted a man in civilian clothes.
"A friend," replied the man in answer to the challenge.
"Advance and give your name," persisted the sentry.
"Lieutenant Cantor of the '_Long Island_.'"
At hearing that name, from one in civilian dress, Dave stepped
forward.
"You've been halted by a man from your own ship, sir," nodded
Darrin, on getting close enough to see that the man really was
Cantor.
"Hullo," was Trent's greeting, as he stepped outside. "On duty,
Cantor?"
"Not official duty," replied the other lieutenant.
"You are authorized to be ashore, of course?" continued Trent,
surveying his brother officer, keenly, for, at such a time, it
was strange to see a naval officer ashore in anything but uniform.
"I have proper authority for being ashore," Cantor nodded.
"That is all, then," said Lieutenant Trent. "You may proceed,
of course, but you are going to be halted and held up by every
sentry who sees you. You would get through the town much more
easily in uniform."
"I suppose so," nodded Cantor, and passed on.
Close at hand two revolver shots rang out.
"Ensign Darrin," Trent ordered, "take a man with you and investigate
that firing. Locate it, if possible, and if any Mexican attempts
to fire again, try to bring him in-----dead!"
"You will come with me," ordered Dave, turning to Coxswain Riley.
That petty officer hastily filling his magazine, followed Darrin,
who drew his own revolver.
Hardly had officer and man turned the corner when a pistol flesh
came from the top of a house nearly at the next corner.
The bullet did not pass near enough for them to hear it. Plainly
the shot had been fired at some one else.
"Keep close to the buildings," ordered Dave, leading the way toward
the sniper. "I don't want that fellow to see us until we're right
under him and ready to get him."
Noiselessly they went up the street. It would be impossible for
the sniper to see them unless he bent out over the edge of the
roof from which he was firing.
While they were advancing another shot was fired from the same roof.
Watching the direction of the flash, Darrin was able to guess the
direction of the man or men at whom the Mexican was firing.
"Some of our sharpshooters must still be posted on roofs," Dave
whispered over his shoulder to Riley.
"I know one man who won't be doing much more on a roof, if I can
get a sight of him for three seconds," gruffly answered Riley.
Then they stopped in front of the house in question.
"You slip across to the doorway opposite, and watch for your man,"
whispered Darrin. "I'll remain here and get any one who may attempt
to run out of the house after you open fire."
Slipping across the street, Riley waited.
Scanning the house, from the roof of which the firing had proceeded,
his drawn revolver in his hand, Dave made a quick discovery.
"Why, this is the very door from which I saw Cosetta peering out
yesterday!" thought the young ensign. "I wonder if this is his
home in Vera Cruz. I'll make a point of reporting this to Trent
as soon as we return."
And then Dave heard a voice just inside the door say, in Spanish:
"You ought to stop that sniper on the roof. He took two shots
at me as I came up the street."
"What infernal work is going on here?" Ensign Dave Darrin asked
himself, hoarsely. "I how that voice. I'd know it anywhere.
That's Cantor speaking, and he's in the house of the enemy!"