PLAYING BIRDMAN IN WAR
Unconsciously Ensign Dave Darrin swayed slightly, so close did the
shower of bullets pass him.
Then the reports of more than a score of American rifles rang out
just as Danny Grin reached his chum's side.
"Hurt, David, little giant?" asked Dan.
"Not even touched, so far as I know," smiled Darrin.
"Boatswain's mate, take a dozen men and leap into that house through
the open window!" Lieutenant Trent called, sternly.
Then the senior officer hurried over to the subordinate.
"Did the rascals get you, Darrin?" demanded the lieutenant, anxiously.
"I don't think so, sir," was the reply. "I don't believe I've
a scratch."
"It's a marvel," gasped Trent, after having taken a pocket electric
light and by its rays examined the young ensign. "I believe every
one of those Mexicans aimed at you."
"It seemed so, sir," Dave laughed.
Danny Grin had already gone, and without orders. The instant
he was satisfied that his chum was uninjured Dalzell had leaped
away in the wake of the party led by the boatswain's mate. Now
Dan was climbing in through the window, helped by two seamen who
had been left on guard outside.
But the search of the house revealed only one dead Mexican, not
in uniform, who had been killed by the sailormen's fire, and a
trail of blood that must have been shed by the wounded enemy as
they were carried away.
"Bandits---Cosetta's men---not soldiers, this time," was Dan's
instant guess.
The miscreants and their wounded, as the blood trail showed, had
escaped by way of the rear of the house. None were in sight by
the time the Americans reached the back yard.
"Shall we pursue, sir?" asked the boatswain's mate, saluting.
"In what direction?" asked Dalzell, scanning the ground. "The
rascals can run faster than we can follow a trail of blood. But
you may go back to Lieutenant Trent, report just what we have
found, and bring me his orders."
"Lieutenant Trent believes that you are not likely to catch up
with the fugitives, and there would be danger of running a handful
of men into a cunning Mexican ambush," the petty officer reported,
two minutes later.
After that the night dragged slowly. Trent allowed some of his
men to sleep in doorways an hour or so at a time, but there were
enough sailormen awake to handle any sudden surprise or attack.
At four in the morning Trent's command was relieved by a company
of marines with two machine guns.
Lieutenant Trent, under orders, marched his command back to a park
in which tents had been pitched. Here, under blankets on the
ground, the tired sailormen and their three officers were allowed
to sleep until noon.
By daylight of that day, Wednesday, the first detachment ashore
had been strongly reinforced.
There was still much sniping in the city, though now the firing came
mostly from the rear of the town. Slowly, patiently, the Navy
detachments pushed their way forward, attending to snipers and also
searching houses for concealed arms and ammunition.
In the course of this search hundreds of Mexicans were arrested.
Even some very small boys were found with knives.
On the third day the residents of the city were warned that all
who possessed arms must take their weapons to the provost officer's
headquarters. About nineteen hundred men, women and boys turned
in their weapons, running all the way from the latest models of
rifles down to century-old muskets.
Soon after orders were issued that all natives found armed were
to be executed on the spot. To the average American this might
have seemed like a cruel order, but now the list of dead sailormen
and marines had reached twenty-five, and there were scores of
wounded American fighting men. Stern steps were necessary to
stop the deadly sniping.
Another day passed, and Vera Cruz, now completely occupied by
the Americans, had ceased to be a battle ground. Now and then
a solitary shot was heard, but in every instance the sniper was
tracked down, and his fate provided another tenant for the Vera
Cruz burying ground.
Detachments were now posted even to the suburbs of the city.
On the morning of the fifth day, just after Trent's detachment had
been roused from a night's sleep in a park in the heart of Vera
Cruz, orders came to the lieutenant that seemed to please him.
"We are to march as soon as we have had breakfast," Trent told
his two junior officers. "We are to take position a mile and
a half south-west of the advanced line, and there wait to protect,
if necessary, the Navy aviators, who are going out soon on a scouting
flight. At the same time, we are to keep a lookout for the appearance
of one of the airships that the Huerta forces are supposed to
possess. If we see one, we are to try to get it with the machine
guns or rifles. And here is a piece of news that may interest
you youngsters. If requested by either of the Navy aviators,
I am to allow one of my junior officers to go up in the airship
to help with the preparation of field notes to be used in making
a military map. If such a demand be made upon me, which of you
young men shall be the one to go?"
Ensigns Dave and Dan had turned glowing faces to Trent. Then
they glanced at each other. A scouting trip in one of the Navy
aircraft would be an unqualified delight to either.
"Let Darrin go," urged Danny Grin.
"I withdraw, in favor of Dalzell," spoke Dave, with equal quickness.
"Which shall it be, then?" Trent demanded quizzically.
"Dalzell," said Dave.
"Darrin," decreed Danny Grin.
"How am I to decide?" asked the lieutenant, smiling at the two
eager faces. Then, suddenly he added: "I have it! Which excelled
the other in map work at Annapolis?"
"Darrin had the higher marks! I defy you to dispute that, David,
little giant."
As Danny Grin's statement was true, Dave could not dispute it,
so be contented himself by saying:
"Dalzell's map-work at Annapolis was good enough to suit any need
around here, and I shall be glad to see Dalzell get the chance."
"On that showing," returned Trent, "Darrin shall have the chance
if it comes this way."
After a quick meal the detachment was under way. In about an
hour the position ordered had been taken.
"Here comes the first Navy birdman!" cried Dan suddenly, pointing
townward.
Just appearing over the housetops, and soaring to an elevation
of a thousand feet, came one of the huge hydro-aeroplanes in which
Navy aviators had long been practicing for just such work as this.
Capable of coming down and resting on the water, or of rising
from the same, these aircraft were ideally suited to the work.
Swiftly over Vera Cruz came the airship, then straight out over
the advanced line, and next on toward the detachment beyond.
"He isn't coming down," cried Danny Grin in a tone of genuine
disappointment. "No chance for you on that one, Davy! Too bad!"
Yet suddenly the rattling noise nearly overhead almost ceased
as the engine was shut off. Then gracefully the craft voloplaned
and touched the ground, just inside the detachment's line.
"Great work, Bowers!" cried Trent, recognizing in the Navy birdman
a former classmate at Annapolis.
"Thank you, Trent. You have an officer, haven't you, to help
me with field notes on this survey?"
"I have two," smiled Trent, "but I am afraid I can spare only
one. Lieutenant Bowers, Ensign Darrin. Hop aboard, Darrin!"
In a twinkling Ensign Dave had shaken hands with the birdman,
adding:
"At your orders, sir!"
Then Dave stepped nimbly up to the platform. "Take a seat beside
me, with your field-glasses ready. Here's your field note-book."
At a sign from Lieutenant Bowers, the eager sailormen parted in
front of the airship, which, after a brief run, soared gracefully
once more.
Behind Lieutenant Bowers stood a sailor with a signal flag.
"Step to the rear," Bowers directed, over his shoulder, "and wigwag
back: 'O.K. Stopped only for assistant.' Sign, 'Bowers.'
"Aye, aye, sir," answered the signalman. "Lieutenant Sherman's
airship is rising from the harbor, sir," reported the signalman.
"Very good," nodded Lieutenant Bowers, and kept his eyes on his
course. "Darrin, are you taking all the observations necessary and
entering them?"
"Aye, aye, sir."
"There's the railroad bridge about which the admiral was so anxious,"
said Bowers, presently. "You will note that the bridge stands, but
the railroad tracks have been torn up."
"Aye, aye, sir," Dave reported, after using his field glass.
"That's one of the things we wanted to know," Bowers continued.
"And keep an especially sharp lookout, Ensign, for any signs
of Mexican forces, hidden or in the open."
But, though Dare looked constantly, he saw no indications of
the Mexican column with which General Maas had retreated.
"Too bad about Cantor of your ship," murmured Lieutenant Bowers,
a little later. "Though the forces have been searching for him
for three or four days he can't be found anywhere. It must be
fearful to be tried for treason to one's flag. I am hoping that
Cantor will be brought in dead. Under such charges as he faces,
there's more dignity in being dead."
"Much more," Dave assented, in a low voice.
On and on they flew. Once, when Dave sighted moving persons in
the distance, Bowers drove the craft up to three thousand feet above
the earth. But soon, under the glass, these suspects turned out
to be a party of wretched refugees, hurrying, ragged, barefooted,
starving, gaunt and cactus-torn, to safety within the American lines
at Vera Cruz.
For many miles Bowers's craft flew inland, and much valuable information
was picked up, besides the data from which any naval draughtsman
could construct a very good map of that part of the country.
At last Lieutenant Bowers turned back.
Suddenly Dave exclaimed, "Hullo! There are two men coming out
of the adobe house ahead."
The house in question was out about four miles beyond Trent's
station.
Dave kept his glass turned on the two men on the ground, at the
same the trying to conceal the glass from their view.
"They haven't rifles," he told Lieutenant Bowers. Then, as the
aircraft passed and left the adobe house to the rear, Darrin
bent over and whispered something in Bowers's ear that the signalman
behind them could not hear.