CONCLUSION
The loud knock on the door resounded through the tense stillness of the
courtroom. The door was thrown open violently and the stalwart figure
of O’Neil, with Craig trembling beside him, stood on the threshold.
Sydney sprang to his feet and placed himself beside the boatswain’s
mate.
“What is the meaning of this unwarranted intrusion?” cried the
president of the court, turning fiercely on O’Neil.
“This man is a witness for the defense,” cried Sydney, joyously
pointing at Craig.
The court turned in amazement to gaze at the would-be deserter.
“I object to further testimony,” announced the judge advocate
earnestly; “the case is now in the hands of the court.”
Phil’s heart beat wildly. Would the president sustain this objection?
The president rose to his feet; the court room became so still that the
heavy breathing of O’Neil and his prisoner, from their recent exertions
to arrive in time, was plainly audible above all other sounds.
“The case is still in the hands of the defense,” the president
announced. “I shall administer the oath to the witness.”
O’Neil withdrew quietly, leaving Craig within the courtroom.
“Were you on a hill called La Mesa near the city of La Boca on the day
of the assault by the insurgents?” the judge advocate asked the witness
after he had been directed to take the stand by the president.
Craig looked at Sydney nervously then he answered in a trembling voice:
“No, sir.”
The judge advocate jumped to his feet.
“I object to this witness,” he cried loudly; “he can know nothing of
the charges.”
The president glanced at the faces of his colleagues. They nodded their
approval.
“The objection is sustained,” he was on the point of saying when he
caught sight of Sydney’s anxious face. The latter had sprung from his
chair and was endeavoring to catch the president’s eye before the fatal
words were uttered.
“Well, what have you to say?” the officer asked impatiently.
Sydney thought rapidly; as Phil’s counsel he could plead and say things
he knew his chum would be too modest to tell.
“I ask the court’s indulgence,” Sydney commenced, seeking for
appropriate words to convey clearly all that was in his mind to the
members of the court. “The accused has been charged with disobeying the
orders of his superior officer on La Mesa the day of the assault. We
have two witnesses who will testify that in a house belonging to the
ex-vice-consul, Mr. Juarez, thirty Colt automatic guns with ammunition
were found; that these guns were mounted by the accused and his
companions and manned by a company of government soldiers. The attack
was on La Mesa, although the minister representing the United States
had informed General Barras that a reliable informant had told him the
attack would be upon Tortuga Hill. We can show that the presence of
the accused and his companions was indispensable on La Mesa at the
time of Mr. Lazar’s arrival. If the order had been obeyed the Colt
guns would have fallen into the hands of the insurgents, which would
have discredited the minister and the United States in the eyes of the
existing government. Our witness Craig will tell the part Mr. Lazar
has taken in connection with these arms and will show why the accused
deliberately disobeyed a positive order.”
Sydney sat down, his eyes flashing, his face pale and anxious.
The court was silent for a fraction of a second and then a hum of
surprised interrogation spread among its members. All knew of the
captured arms and how the rock-filled boxes were found at the legation.
“The witness will be allowed to testify,” the president spoke decidedly.
“I have no further question to ask,” snapped the judge advocate,
betraying in his voice the disappointment at losing his point.
The court looked to Sydney; he whispered reassuringly to the unnerved
Craig.
The terrified sailor’s voice was so low pitched that the seven judges
strained their hearing to listen. The silence was profound.
“At New York, while we were there for repairs,” he commenced feebly,
“I received a telegram that my sister was dying. I went to Mr. Lazar
as the senior officer on board at the time and asked for leave to go
to her bedside. He refused me permission. I showed him the telegram
and her picture in a locket I always carried with me; she was my only
living relative and we were everything to each other. I implored with
tears in my eyes. He refused again and accused me of deceiving him to
get ashore when I was not entitled to liberty.
“The next day I received word she had died. The executive officer was
on board and allowed me to go to bury her body.
“I hated this officer, Ensign Lazar, for his cruelty to me and when I
saw an opportunity to injure him I was happy. I filed half-way through
the hoist wire in his turret. The accident happened, as I knew it
must; but unfortunately for me while I was filing the wire rope Mr.
Perry came into the turret; he heard me at work and called. In my
haste to leave before he could detect me, I turned in the darkness
to escape. The locket was in the pocket of my blouse which I had laid
on the turret floor. I heard it fall on the metal deck as I grasped
my clothes, but there was no time to regain it. Afterward I risked
detection in getting it from Mr. Perry’s room, but I soon found that
Ensign Lazar had already seen it and recognized the locket I had shown
him, and knew at once that I had been guilty of injuring the turret.
He told me if I didn’t want to go to jail for a long term of years I
must do as he told me. I feared him. He first made me try to injure the
‘Vidette’s’ machinery on the night those arms were captured. Then I was
wounded and before I had recovered entirely I was taken ashore with him
and forced to sleep in the cellar of the legation. He told me that on a
certain night I was to open the boxes, all but one, and that men would
come through a tunnel below the cellar and carry the Colt guns away,
giving me rocks to put in their places.
“I heard one of the natives who received the arms tell another where
they were to be taken, and when Mr. Perry discovered that the boxes
were full of rocks and that the arms were gone, I told him what I had
done and where they had been taken.
“I didn’t want to desert, but Mr. Lazar told me I had betrayed him and
that if I didn’t he would find a way to dispose of me. He made all the
arrangements and hid me in the house of a friend of his; then last
night they took me on board a steamer, where O’Neil found me.”
The judge advocate was on his feet before the witness’s voice had died
into nothingness.
“I object to this testimony,” he cried impetuously, making a last
attempt to reinstate himself and prove his case against the accused.
“By his own evidence, this man is a criminal; his testimony is
malicious and should not be received in evidence. He stands a would-be
deserter from the navy.”
The president of the court hesitated. The truth in the judge advocate’s
words was impressive.
“Recall Mr. Lazar,” he ordered, after a moment’s thought. “He should
be here to hear this evidence and clear up this imputation against his
good name in the navy.”
The court orderly was sent to summon Lazar again before the court.
The two midshipmen sat anxiously watching the door for the appearance
of their enemy. They knew him to be a clever rogue. This situation had
never occurred to them. Would Lazar deny Craig’s testimony and assert
that this sick cringing sailor was alone guilty of the crime? Craig’s
testimony came as a surprise to the lads; they had not suspected that
he was the owner of the locket.
The time dragged heavily. The president became impatient. He glanced at
the clock; its hands showed it was now twenty minutes since the orderly
had gone to notify the ensign to appear. What had detained him? He must
be on board ship. Permission to leave the ship would not be granted him
while the court was in session.
The orderly opened the door quietly and saluted the president.
“Ensign Lazar can’t be found, sir,” he reported, “but the captain is
outside, sir, and wants to appear before the court.”
Captain Taylor, a sheet of paper in his hand, strode into the
courtroom.
“Mr. President,” he exclaimed excitedly, “Mr. Lazar has left the ship
without obtaining permission. This is the communication that he has
sent me. I shall read it to the court.”
“SIR:
“I hereby tender my resignation as an ensign in the United States
Navy.
“Very respectfully,
“JULES LAZAR,
“_Ensign, U. S. Navy_.”
The midshipmen were joyous. Lazar’s courage had failed him. If he had
braved it out and thrown discredit on Craig’s evidence, Phil might
have after all stood convicted, for on this testimony their case was
constructed. But Lazar dared not commit perjury before his brother
officers.
“I am at a loss to explain its meaning,” Captain Taylor added, folding
the paper.
The court understood, but by law they could not enlighten the mystified
captain, who withdrew.
“Is there any further evidence?” inquired the president after the
court had recovered a little from its surprise. Sydney and the judge
advocate said they had nothing more to offer.
“Then the trial is finished,” the president announced.
The judge advocate, and the accused and his counsel arose to leave the
courtroom, but the president waved them back to their seats, glancing
inquiringly at his colleagues. Each member nodded his head in the
affirmative, without hesitation. The president took up Phil’s sword
lying on the court table with its point toward the accused, and swung
its hilt within reach of the lad’s hand.
This mute confession that he was held guiltless filled the midshipman’s
heart with joy. He looked with gratitude on the president, who had
relieved his mind of its heavy burden. This acknowledgment of their
verdict was irregular and for that reason Phil felt all the more
grateful. The official news might be days in reaching him and relieving
his mind. The proceedings must first be written smoothly, signed by all
the members and reviewed by the admiral before he would hear officially
that he had been cleared of the terrible charges.
With hearts overflowing with gladness the two midshipmen helped the
almost prostrated witness to his feet and supported him from the court
room.
“You have nothing to fear,” Phil whispered to him encouragingly as the
doctor’s attendants bore him away to the sick bay.
At the door of their room they found O’Neil awaiting them, a broad
smile on his face.
“I knew it was going to be all right,” he exclaimed as they greeted him
enthusiastically, “when I saw Mr. Lazar steal away in a shore boat from
the port gangway. He slipped off when the officer of the deck wasn’t
looking and left a paper with the corporal of the guard.”
“That was his resignation,” Sydney explained. “After he knew Craig was
before the court his courage deserted him; but however did you find the
witness?”
O’Neil led them into the room, drawing the curtain, then detailed his
experiences of the night before.
“Captain Garcia is the one who got him,” he ended unselfishly. “If it
had not been for him and the ‘Aquadores,’ Craig would have gotten away
sure.”
“Captain Garcia has put me as much in his debt as he claimed he was in
ours,” exclaimed Phil gladly. “Where is he? I hope we’ll have a chance
to thank him before we sail.”
“That you will, sir,” O’Neil returned. “He said he’d go direct to
General Barras, so that Mareno could be nabbed, and then he’d come
aboard here to say good-bye; he knows we sail at noon.”
Sydney and O’Neil went about their routine work on shipboard, but
Phil remained in his room. His empty sword rack, however, gave him no
twinges of regret. For the first time in two days he felt at peace with
the world. The illness of Craig, the man whose testimony had stood
between him and dismissal, concerned him. He resolved to stand by him
and see that he received the best of care.
Phil had been alone with his thoughts for nearly an hour when he heard
a bugle call ring out sharply on the deck above him, followed by hoarse
commands.
Putting his head out of his air port, he saw the sailors on the
battle-ships manning the rail, their guards and bands falling in on
their quarter-decks. He knew the import of this formation at once: the
president of Verazala was on his way to visit the admiral.
Sydney came rushing in for his sword, giving the news which Phil had
already surmised.
“If Captain Garcia comes with him,” Phil pleaded, “don’t let him go
without seeing me. Tell him I am still a prisoner.”
Sydney declared he would see to that as he buckled on his sword and
made for his station.
The roaring of many guns in salute from the men-of-war, told
the imprisoned midshipman that General Barras was on board the
“Connecticut.”
Five minutes later Phil received a summons from the admiral, which he
obeyed with alacrity. On entering the cabin the astonished boy found
himself in the presence of General Barras and Admiral Spotts. The
midshipman drew himself up stiffly to “attention,” not daring to glance
at these important men; his heart beat wildly.
The admiral held Phil’s sword in his hand.
“I take great pleasure in restoring you to duty,” he said handing the
confused lad the badge of honor. The admiral turned toward General
Barras, inclining his head in Phil’s direction.
“This is Mr. Perry,” he added.
The president acknowledged the introduction with a cordial hand shake.
“I have already had the honor of meeting Midshipman Perry,” he
exclaimed, “but I could not then thank him appropriately, for I knew
only a part of his splendid service to us.” Then turning an admiring
glance at the embarrassed boy:
“Señor Perry,” he continued, “your gallant deeds will ever be
remembered by true patriots of Verazala. Please convey my personal
thanks to your two companions.”
Phil found voice to stammer his gratitude for this unheard of honor;
then he withdrew from the cabin.
As he closed the door behind him, the knob was wrenched from his hand
and he found himself in Captain Garcia’s strong embrace; that officer
had been an unobserved witness to the lad’s happy discomfiture.
While the two friends walked arm in arm to Phil’s room, where Sydney
was awaiting them, the boy poured out his heartfelt thanks to the naval
man for his zealous work in his behalf.
“I am further in your debt than I can ever repay,” exclaimed Captain
Garcia, refusing to listen to the earnest words of his young friend.
“What I did last night was nothing; and moreover, it has led to the
unmasking of a traitor to my country.”
“O’Neil has told us,” replied Phil. “Did you capture him?” he asked
eagerly.
“Señor Mareno has escaped,” the naval officer told the lads; “he is now
on board a foreign war-ship and as he is a political refugee, we cannot
demand him. General Barras knows all, and will give the concessions
to the American syndicate. The minister of course knows nothing of
how close he was to being summarily ordered home. General Barras was
in such a rage when he learned of the perfidy of Mareno, his trusted
friend, that I believe if he had been arrested, the president would
have ordered his execution.”
“Have you heard that Ensign Lazar has resigned?” questioned Sydney in
his turn.
Captain Garcia was soon told the story of the court martial and of
Lazar’s desertion.
“We shall see that he doesn’t prosper here,” replied the Spaniard
determinedly; then with genuine regrets he bid them farewell and joined
the president, who was about to leave the ship.
After Captain Garcia had gone our two lads lapsed into silence. Their
thoughts dwelt upon the stirring events of the last few weeks. What a
relief and happiness it was to feel that their energy and foresight had
been repaid and a result pleasing to their countrymen had been achieved.
“The captain desires to see Midshipmen Perry and Monroe,” the captain’s
orderly announced, his face beaming as he spoke to Phil. “I knowed you
were not guilty, sir; every mother’s son of us forward were hoping
you’d not be punished.”
Phil thanked the marine, tears of gratitude springing to his eyes,
while the two midshipmen arose to obey their captain’s summons.
Captain Taylor awaited them in his cabin.
“I have just finished reading the proceedings of Mr. Perry’s court
martial,” he began, shaking both boys by the hand, “and I could but
marvel at the wickedness of Ensign Lazar: I had believed he was an
example of honor and efficiency. The actions of both of you have been
worthy of the best traditions of American naval officers. You, Mr.
Perry, were willing to stand convicted of this military crime rather
than make charges against an officer which were conclusive in your own
mind but which might have been considered recriminating in the mind of
the court.”
“There was nothing else to do, sir,” Phil replied, his face flushed
with pride. “I did disobey the order and my one defense was that I did
it to save the good name of our minister.”
“Sir, the officer of the deck reports the signal to get under way is
about to be hoisted by the admiral,” the orderly informed the captain.
“Very good, orderly,” Captain Taylor answered, and then turning again
toward the midshipmen, who had moved toward the door to go to their
station: “Gentlemen, you may ever consider me ready to help you in
your ambitions in the service. If there is aught I can do for you, let
me know; your services here can only be rewarded in such ways: official
recognition is denied you.”
“Well! What is it?” the captain exclaimed, reading the look in Phil’s
face.
“We would like to go to the Orient, sir,” Phil answered bashfully; “we
want to see the world.”
“Is that all you wish?” returned the captain surprised at the modesty
of the lads. “I shall see that your wish is gratified. I have received
an intimation that I shall go to that station when I have received
my promotion to rear-admiral, which will be in a few months now, and
I shall be happy to have such officers under my command. I am sorry
the naval regulation does not allow me to nominate midshipmen on my
personal staff.”
The boys thanked him enthusiastically. Phil stood irresolutely
regarding the captain: there was one more request he wished to make.
“Go on, out with it,” Captain Taylor exclaimed kindly.
“Boatswain’s Mate O’Neil, sir, may he go too?” Phil asked hesitatingly.
“Well! Well!” laughed the captain; “yes, I shall see that your good man
Friday goes too.”
Within an hour the squadron was under way, and the boys took their last
view of La Boca, not without regrets, for the leaf just turned in their
life histories had been an interesting one. As they scanned the scenes
of the recent adventures they could hardly be expected to realize that
the stirring deeds of the past few weeks formed but a milestone in the
career of one who served his country on the seas.
FOOTNOTE:
[1] “I thought our numbers were made.” Each officer and man in the navy
is denoted by a number, and when one is called by a higher authority
his number is called or “made” by signal flags. O’Neil’s meaning is
that a Higher Authority had “made” their numbers.
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.