Two Boys of the Battleship: or, For the Honor of Uncle Sam

Webster Frank V.

Two Boys of the Battleship; Or, For the Honor of Uncle Sam

CHAPTER I – IN THE STORM

“Say, Frank, it’s certainly getting pretty bad; isn’t it?”

“Well, Ned, it surely isn’t getting any better. I’m positive of that. Look out! Here comes a big comber!”

There was a surge of green, foam-capped water, which looked as if it would engulf and overwhelm the dory motor boat, in which crouched two youths, one about eighteen, and the other slightly older.

“Hold her nose right into it, Frank!” cried the younger lad, who was bending over the laboring motor.

“That’s what I’m doing,” was the answer of his brother, “Whoop! Some water came aboard that time!”

The dory, built for rough work in the open sea, did not actually ship the wave, for her high and peculiarly built bow and stern were intended to meet just such emergencies, but there was a heavy storm brewing, and the wind whipped enough water off the top of the big wave to make three or four inches in the bottom of the craft.

“Think we can make the inlet, Frank?” inquired Ned Arden rather anxiously, as he straightened up, for now that the one big wave had been successfully coped with, there would be a short period of calm in the turmoil of the sea.

“Sure we’ll make it!” asserted Frank, as he shifted the wheel slightly to meet another comber, though not so large as the former one. “Of course we’ll make it. But I don’t mind admitting that I wish we were in the bay right now. The storm broke sooner than I thought it would.”

“But we’ve got a good boat,” Ned remarked, as he made a slight adjustment to the oil cups, to feed a little more of the lubricant to the toiling motor, which was enclosed in a sort of box amidships of the dory. Ned replaced the cover of the motor compartment and braced himself on a locker seat near his brother.

“Yes, a fine boat,” agreed Frank. “She’ll weather a worse storm than this.”

“Not worse than this is going to be,” insisted Ned, as he looked up at the gray and leaden sky above them. The strong wind was sweeping along, snipping off patches of salty spray from the tops of the waves, sending it with stinging force into the faces of the two boys. Overhead masses of black clouds scudded across the general gray surface of the sky. As yet there had been no rain, but Frank and Ned Arden were as wet from the spray as though there were a veritable downpour.

“Well, I’d trust this tub almost anywhere,” Frank said, rising slightly to peer ahead that he might see where to steer, for the atmosphere was thickening as the storm developed more and more. “She’s proved what she can do, Ned, and we don’t need to be afraid as long as she holds together and the motor keeps working.”

“That’s the only trouble,” Ned replied; “the motor. If she goes back on us and we lose headway, we’ll get into the trough of the sea, and then it will be all up with us,” and he laughed grimly.

“Don’t borrow trouble,” advised the elder lad. “The motor isn’t going back on us. She isn’t that kind.”

“One cylinder missed a couple of times, though.”

“Yes, the gasoline isn’t as good as it ought to be. I’m not going to get any more of it from Pierson. Look out, Ned! Here comes another!”

The boys crouched and turned their backs as their boat went slapping her way through another big wave. For a moment they could scarcely see because of the salty spray that filled the air, but they shook their heads to rid their faces of water, and looked eagerly, and somewhat anxiously, first into the interior of their craft to see how much water she had shipped, and then both peered, somewhat apprehensively, toward a long, low-lying body of land toward which they were urging their boat.

“It’s a good bit off yet,” said Ned, as he pointed toward Fire Island.

“Yes, but don’t worry. We’ll make it,” his brother reassured him. “Guess I’ll start the bilge pump. No use having all this water sloshing around our feet.”

“I’ll start the pump. You keep to the wheel,” answered Ned. “I don’t want to try my hand at steering just at the present time. Say, this is some storm!”

The younger lad threw into gear a small auxiliary pump attached to the motor. This pump was designed to free the boat of water, for Frank and Ned Arden often went some distance out to sea in their craft, and more than once they had shipped enough water to make them not only uncomfortable, but to put them in danger. So, to avoid the heavy and tiring work of baling, they had installed a small but powerful pump.

This the motor was soon operating, sending the water over the side by means of a small hose.

“That’s better,” observed Frank, when the interior of the dory was almost free from the fluid. “Shut off the pump now, Ned. I want all the power of the motor I can get.”

“Why, aren’t we holding our own?”

“Yes, but not much more than that. The tide’s running strong, and it will be worse when we get to the inlet.”

Ned peered through the gloom caused by the lowering storm-clouds, and sought to read his brother’s face. Ned was not afraid, nor a coward, but if there was danger ahead he wanted to be prepared for the worst. However, the countenance of Frank showed no unusual anxiety, though his lips were firmly and grimly closed. Frank would drive on through the storm, and if it were humanly possible he would bring the boat safely through the inlet of Fire Island and into the quiet and protected waters of Great South Bay.

Frank and Ned Arden lived with their uncle, Philip Arden, just outside the town of Ipswhich, Long Island. Their home was a large, old-fashioned house, and the grounds extended down to the beach of the Great South Bay, on the waters of which the lads spent much of their time.

They loved the sea, and from the time they were small boys and could barely swim, they fairly reveled in its saltiness, and were out on the bay or ocean in calm and storm.

At first they had been allowed to go only a little way from shore in a safe, but big and clumsy row boat. Then, as they became older and more experienced, they secured a better craft, and even ventured to cross the stretch of water which lay between the mainland of Long Island and Fire Island, that long, narrow strip of land which has been the cause of so many wrecks. On one side of Fire Island pounds the never quiet waves of the ocean, while on the other side, only a few minutes’ walk distant, are the calm and shallow waters of the bay. The bay and ocean are connected by several inlets, and the one for which Frank and Ned were heading was the one near Fire Island Light.

Once through that and in the quiet bay, it would be a small matter to make the run to their dock in their speedy motor dory.

They had had this boat about six months, purchasing it for their pleasure, for they were quite well off. It was not the first motor craft they had owned, but it was the one they liked best, for they could venture out on the open sea with it.

“And in quite a storm, too,” said Frank, speaking of the matter. “But we certainly have given it a good test to-day,” he added to his brother. “She’s shown what she can do.”

“That’s what she has, old man. But we’re almost at the inlet now; aren’t we?”

“Yes, a few minutes now. Wow! Here comes the rain!”

The storm, having lashed itself up to a certain point, now added a deluge of rain to the gale of wind, and the darkness increased.

The dory rose and fell, occasionally her propeller being out of the water so that it raced. Frank and Ned braced themselves against the rolling, pitching and tossing motion, Frank now and then raising himself to peer ahead to mark a course for steering.

“Better start the pump again!” he shouted into his brother’s ear. “We’ve more water in her than I like to see.”

“Thought you said we’d need all our power to make the inlet.”

“So we will. But you can run the pump a few minutes before we’ll have to buck the tide. Shut her off when I tell you.”

The two boys gave their attention to managing their craft now. Gradually she was emptied of water again, and, at a nod from Frank, Ned disconnected the pump gears. As he stood up after doing this, he saw, on the open sea back of him and about two miles off shore, a dark mass which seemed shrouded in smoke.

“Look Frank!” he cried. “A ship on fire!”

Frank gave a quick glance.

“No!” he answered, raising his voice to make it heard above the roar of the wind and the swish of the rain, “that’s a battleship – the Texas, I think. I read she was to pass down this way. Yes, that’s what it is – one of Uncle Sam’s battleships! Say, I wish we were nearer and could get a better view. Isn’t that great!” and Frank, with shining eyes, looked earnestly in the direction of the big craft which moved along over the tempestuous sea as though no strife nor storm could produce an impression on her.

“It sure is great!” agreed Ned. “Say, Frank, do you know what my one ambition is?”

“Well, you change so often that it’s hard to keep track.”

“I’ve never changed from this one. I’d like to be a sailor on a battleship.”

“So would I, Ned! I’ve never talked much about it, because it didn’t seem of much use. Uncle Phil would never let us. But if I ever get the chance I’m going to have a try at life on a battleship.”

“And I’m with you, Frank!” Ned eagerly cried. “Only I guess there isn’t much chance. We’ve got to finish at college, I suppose, and then buckle down to business. But it’s the sea for mine every time, and every chance I get!”

“Same here. Now look out for things, Ned. We’re going through the inlet. And say, maybe the tide isn’t running strong!”

CHAPTER II – POLITICAL COMPLICATIONS

With one last and lingering look at the battleship, which was now almost lost to sight in the spray and spume of the sea and the mist of driving rain, Ned crouched down in the dory and watched his brother at the wheel, as the older lad turned the craft to make the trip through the inlet.

Ned crouched to keep as much as possible out of the way of the flying spray, and also to bring his weight low-down in the craft and thus make her more seaworthy. For though it was not likely that the dory would capsize, it was not wise to offer too many chances to the sea.

“Can you make it?” shouted Ned.

Frank nodded his head. It was no time for talk now.

The stanch craft rose and fell on the waves. She tumbled and tossed about, but dories are made for rough weather and heavy seas, and the boat of the two boys was no exception.

Once again Ned lifted off the cover of the engine box to see that the oil was being properly fed to the machinery, for the gasoline motor was under a severe strain now, forcing the boat through the inlet against the power of the out-rushing tide.

“All right?” asked Frank, snapping out the words, but never taking his eyes from the course ahead.

“All right,” Ned answered.

On through the storm, through the driving rain and the stinging salt spume, labored the dory, until she was in the more quiet waters of Great South Bay, and then, for the first time since they realized that they were caught in a bad storm, our two heroes breathed with comparative freedom.

“Whew!” exclaimed Frank, with a sigh of relief as he allowed his tired legs to stretch a bit, for he had sat in a braced position to manage the wheel. “Whew! That was some storm!”

“It was great!” declared Ned, laughing now. “I love a good blow!”

“So do I, and now that we have tried out the Ellen and know what she can do, we’ll not have to worry so much. It sure is some great little boat!” and Frank patted the wheel affectionately, as one might caress a favorite horse or dog. The motor boat really seemed a thing of life to the boys.

Their hard work was not yet over, however, for Great South Bay is very shallow, and it does not take much wind to roughen the water there. But, of course, the waves were nothing like those out on the open sea, and, as Ned remarked, “it was pie”; meaning, in his own way, that it was easy navigating.

“Well, we’re almost in now,” Frank remarked, a little later, as he nodded in the direction of the tall wireless mast at Sayville – the wireless by which messages are sent directly to and from Germany. The mast is a landmark for miles around.

“Yes, we’ll be at the house shortly now,” agreed Ned. “Let me take the wheel awhile. You must be tired.”

“I am,” Frank admitted, as he surrendered the spokes to his brother. The latter steered to where their row boat was moored at the anchorage, and having made everything aboard the dory snug for the coming night of storm, and having anchored her, bow and stern, Frank and Ned rowed to shore and started up the walk toward their uncle’s house.

The two boys were orphans, their mother having died when they were respectively nine and eight years old. Mr. Arden was an importer of coffee and other tropical and South American products, and had, at one time, been wealthy.

But the death of his wife seemed to deprive Mr. Arden of some of his business ability. Perhaps he lost heart, and had little ambition left. Whatever the cause, he gradually lost money and curtailed his activities until he was in danger of bankruptcy. Of course Frank and Ned were then too small to know about this.

Then Mr. Arden’s brother Philip, a shrewd business man, stepped in to the aid of the sorrowing man. Philip Arden knew little or nothing of the importing trade, but he had good natural abilities, and he gave his whole attention to his brother’s affairs.

The effect was to save a business on the verge of ruin, and for some years the two Arden brothers were in partnership. For a time the father of Ned and Frank seemed to regain his old-time manner. But he really was a man with a broken heart, and five years after the death of his beloved wife he gave up the fight and died, after a brief illness.

Frank and Ned were thus left orphans, but, thanks to the business ability of Philip Arden, the boys were heirs to a considerable fortune. It was natural that they should now make their home with their uncle. The latter had never married, and for the last few years he had taken up his residence with his brother and nephews at Ipswhich, where the Ardens had lived for many years in an old homestead on the bay.

Of course Frank and Ned grieved sorely over the death of their father. They did not remember their mother quite so well, though often they would go into the parlor and look at the picture of a woman with a sweet, but rather sad face. It was a picture before which they had often seen their father stand with bowed head and hands clasped behind his back. And often, when he came softly out of the room where the portrait hung, there was a suspicious moisture in Mr. Arden’s eyes.

But Frank and Ned were healthy, hearty lads; and at fourteen and thirteen grief does not last very long. Kind Nature did not intend it so. And in a little while Ned and Frank at least partly forgot their sorrow in the activities of life.

Their uncle carried on their father’s business, though on a smaller scale, and their money, inherited from their father, was in Philip Arden’s hands, as the guardian of the two boys. Frank and Ned never asked how their fortune was invested. They took it for granted that it was safe. They always had, within reason, all the spending money they needed, and they were well supplied with the things that go to make life enjoyable.

Their tastes were simple, however, and the most that they asked for was something connected with boats. They seemed to live on the water, especially in the summer.

Both boys attended Columbia University, in New York City, and were doing well in their studies. They had no special profession in mind, but their uncle rather took it for granted that they would, after their graduation, take up the importing trade with him.

“I suppose we might as well do it as anything else,” Frank said.

“Yes, for perhaps we can get a chance to make a trip to South America,” Ned agreed. “I’ve always wanted to see foreign countries.”

They spoke of this again as they hurried on through the storm to the shelter of the big white house.

“I tell you what would be better than going to South America on importing business,” said Ned.

“What?” Frank inquired.

“Going down there, or for that matter, to any foreign country, on a battleship!”

“Cracky! I should say so!” exclaimed the older lad. “I wonder if we’ll ever actually be on one?”

“Well, we were on one once,” Ned remarked.

“The Nebraska, yes. But only on a tour of inspection with a lot of fellows of our class. I want to actually belong to the battleship myself – I don’t want to be just a visitor.”

“How about firing the big guns?” asked Ned.

“Yes, I’d want that, too! Oh, say, but what’s the use of talking about it?”

“None, I guess.”

But had Frank and Ned only known it, they were nearer to their hearts’ desire than ever before.

“Oh, how wet you are!” exclaimed Mrs. Brun, the housekeeper, as the two brothers entered the house. “Why, you’re soaked!”

“Yes, we are a bit damp,” admitted Frank. He was putting it mildly, for the water was dripping from him and his brother in streams as they stood in the middle of the kitchen, having entered through the rear door with due consideration for the front hall rugs.

“Get your wet things off at once,” said Mrs. Brun, “and I’ll make you some hot tea.”

“Oh, we’re not cold,” Ned answered. He and Frank took off their coats and shoes, and the housekeeper took charge of their garments while they hurried to their room to change to dry things.

“Your uncle has been asking for you,” Mrs. Brun called to them as they went upstairs.

“We’ll see him in a few minutes,” Frank called back.

A little later, dry and comfortable, they went to the library. They found their uncle pacing up and down the room, evidently in a highly nervous and excited state. He glanced up as they entered, and exclaimed:

“Boys, I am quite worried!”

“Worried about us?” asked Frank. “Why, we were out in the dory. It was a bad storm, but – ”

“No, I wasn’t worried about you. I felt you could take care of yourselves. But, at the same time, I am glad you have returned safely. No, I am worried about other matters. Boys, I have a confession to make to you.”

“A confession, Uncle Philip?” repeated Frank.

“Yes. I had rather you heard the truth from me, than to get a garbled account from some one else, as you are sure to do sooner or later. Boys, I am likely to be taken away at any moment by the authorities!”

“Uncle Philip!”

“Oh, don’t look so alarmed,” and he smiled at their blank faces. “It isn’t for anything disgraceful, nor on a criminal charge.”

“But what other charge can they arrest you on?” Frank demanded.

“On a political charge.”

“They don’t do such things in this country!” cried Ned.

“The charge doesn’t come from this country, boys. Sit down and I’ll tell you as much of it as you need to know.”

CHAPTER III – UNDER ARREST

Mr. Arden ceased his pacing up and down the library, and taking up a bundle of papers from a table – papers that seemed fairly to bristle with red seals – he sat down in an easy chair. But he was anything but at ease himself.

“Boys,” he began, while Ned and Frank wondered what was in store for them, “there is no need of going into too many details, or in saying I am sorry for what has happened. I am more sorry than I can ever tell you, for it looks as though I had betrayed the trust my dead brother left to me – the trust of bringing up you boys as he would have done himself had he lived.” As he spoke tears came into Mr. Arden’s eyes.

“Don’t worry,” said Ned, warmly. “Whatever you have done, Uncle Phil, we know it was done with the best intentions.”

“That’s right!” chimed in Frank.

“Well, it’s good to hear you say that, for others might judge me more harshly,” went on the importer. “And I really acted from the best motives and for your interests. I may have made a mistake – I don’t claim to be infallible – but I intended no wrong.

“And now, boys, for the worst of it. It may happen that at any moment your fortunes, as well as mine, will be wiped out – lost.”

“Lost!” echoed Frank.

“All our money?” added Ned.

“Yes. There is no use concealing anything,” their uncle said. “All our fortunes are in jeopardy and may be swept away if the political situation in Uridio does not clear up.”

“Uridio! Where is that?” asked Frank.

“It is a small South American republic,” was the answer. “There was trouble some years ago in one of the many states that go to make up Brazil. Some of the inhabitants set up a sort of independent government under a new political leader. Then another man had ambitions to become president of the same little republic, and he organized an army and took control.

“The republic is really too small for Brazil to worry about, and that is why the affair never created much of a stir, at least up in this part of the world.”

“But how are you – or we – interested in Uridio?” asked Frank.

“Because your money and mine is tied up there in certain concessions,” said Mr. Arden.

“But I thought our fortunes were invested in father’s importing business,” said Frank.

“They were. But the importing business has changed greatly of late years. There is not so much money in it as there used to be. I saw that situation arising, and gradually I curtailed the business. Then I became interested in this South American republic of Uridio. It has great natural resources and varied products, and, best of all, it touches the sea coast, so we can ship direct, though the harbor is a miserable one, and unsafe in stormy weather. But still it was profitable to do business there. At least until recently.”

“And what happened recently?” asked Ned.

“Well, it seems there was another change of government down there. Another man wanted to be king, or president, or whatever they call themselves, so he started a revolt, and there was a small revolution.”

“Say, that sounds like a story from a book!” exclaimed Ned, his eyes sparkling. He did not seem to think of his lost fortune.

“I wish it were just a story in a book,” went on his uncle ruefully. “The trouble is it is all too true. Now to resume: When this revolution came my interests happened to be partly with the losing side. I had many concessions and rights to trade and do business from the man who lost out.

“Mind you!” said Mr. Arden, earnestly, “I have nothing to do with the politics down there. I’d never risk your money or my own in a political game. It was straight business with me, buying and selling. But the trouble was I had to do business with one side or the other, and luck has turned against me. I am with the losing party.”

“But maybe fortune will turn,” said Frank. “And if you do lose our money – and yours – why it might have happened in the importing trade.”

“Yes,” admitted his uncle, smiling a little at the lad’s optimism. At nineteen several fortunes may be won and lost, at least so a strong, healthy lad may think. “Yes,” went on Mr. Arden, “I might have lost all our money in some other venture, but I didn’t. I chose to take chances in this South American republic, and I suppose I should not have done so.”

“But where does the arrest come in?” asked Ned. “I can’t see that losing your money, or ours for that matter, is any reason why you should be arrested. It’s our own affair. Of course, it isn’t going to be any fun to lose money. I don’t think that for a minute. But we have our health.”

“And our motor boat,” added Frank. “They wouldn’t take that, I suppose?” he added, a bit apprehensively.

“No, I don’t suppose they’d take that,” his uncle replied, “though you may not have money enough to buy gasoline.”

“We can take out fishing and excursion parties, and make money that way,” laughed Ned. Really it did not seem so bad as it had at first.

“I guess you won’t have to do that right away,” said Mr. Arden. “Though if the money goes, all will be wiped out and we’ll lose everything – including this house.”

The boys rather gasped at that. It was the only home they had ever known.

“But you haven’t yet told us why they can take you away,” insisted Frank.

“I’ll tell you directly. It seems that the political party in power in Uridio has accused me of having furnished arms and munitions of war to their enemies, the revolutionists. It is a political trick, but I am not, at present, able to prove my innocence.”