The North Pacific

On and on, through Newchwang, crossing bridges which were soon to be wrapped in flames, rattling over level plains, winding through narrow defiles surmounted with frowning fortifications, until at last the train rolled into the station at Liaoyang. That afternoon the railroad was crossed by the Japanese, the rails torn up, bridges burned and telegraph wires cut. Port Arthur was isolated from the world. Its next telegram would be sent out eight months later, to be recorded in the quaint characters of the Island Empire.

Fred Larkin, little dreaming that his captor of the preceding evening was in the same city, at once proceeded to make himself at home. He presented his credentials at headquarters, secured lodgings, and sent off a dispatch to the Bulletin that very night, describing the last train from Port Arthur and the conditions as he had found them in that city. This final portion of his telegram would have occupied about half a column of his paper. The grim censor blue-pencilled it down to eight lines and a half!

CHAPTER XVII.

DICK SCUPP'S ADVENTURE

"Osprey, ordered to Chemulpo." Hallie Rexdale read the brief announcement in the list of "navy orders, Asiatic fleet," and wondered if her Dave were summoned to new dangers. While his ship was stationed at Chefoo she felt comparatively easy about him; but Chemulpo, the port of Seoul, Korea, was almost on the firing line. To be sure, the United States was as yet in no way involved in the conflict, but suppose the Vladivostock fleet should happen to descend upon Chemulpo? Shells would fly, and the Osprey could not. The obscure half-line in the newspaper recording naval movements, and overlooked by all but one in a thousand readers, carries joy or dismay to many a wife and sweetheart, for whom the interest in the whole paper centres in that one announcement. Hallie tore up the envelope she had already addressed, and added a few lines to her letter, tearfully bidding – bless her heart! – her gallant commander to "be careful."

The officers and crew of the gunboat were glad to receive the order, when it reached them late in May. They were heartily tired of Chefoo, and any change was hailed with delight. They foresaw, moreover, that before long the Osprey would be ordered to Cavite, there to dock for repairs and the cleaning up her weedy hull needed.

From Chefoo to Chemulpo the distance is about four hundred miles. Rexdale consulted his charts and reckoned that thirty-six hours would be needed for the trip. Word was passed that all liberty on shore was at an end, and every man was supposed to be on board before four bells that same evening. "Supposed to be" – but the commander knew that his crew had recently been diminished, and he felt sore on that particular subject. Three men, during the preceding fortnight, had deserted, presumably to join the Russian navy, which was offering generous inducements to new recruits. It is reckoned, at the present day, that nearly ten per cent. of men – not all "enlisted" – in the United States Navy sooner or later desert.

At Morning Quarters, on the day when the Osprey was to weigh anchor and sail for Chemulpo, one more man was missing – no other than our old friend Dick Scupp. He had been one of the shore party of the preceding day, and in some way his absence from mess had been overlooked at night. One of his mates remembered seeing him enter a saloon in Chefoo, kept by a Chinaman of more than doubtful reputation; nothing further could be ascertained concerning the seaman's movements. Dave knew that sailors are loath to betray one of their number, and questioned them sharply, as Dick was too valuable a man to lose without an effort for his recovery. He even delayed sailing while "Jimmy Legs" spent a couple of hours searching for the delinquent in the lower quarters of the town; but no light was thrown on his disappearance. The Chinese saloon-keeper, Ah Fong, declared that a sailor-man answering to Scupp's description had become partly intoxicated on the premises and had been summarily ejected. That was the last seen of him. Lieut. – Commander Rexdale could wait no longer and put to sea, logging the incident as "Dick Scupp, Ordinary Seaman, disappeared in Chefoo. Probably deserted."

At a little before noon the Osprey was under way. There was no local pilot on the bridge, for each of the officers was supposed to be perfectly capable of taking the ship out and conning her across the gulf to the port of destination. During the long stay at Chefoo Rexdale, in particular, had improved the time by as careful a study of the currents, channels, tides, and beacons on the Chinese coast as if he were to pass an examination in seamanship at short notice.

The gunboat was about five miles out when the attention of Staples, the executive, was called to a large junk crossing her bow about a mile ahead.

"There's some sort of a row on board," said the lieutenant, as he eyed the lumbering craft through his glasses. "It looks like a free fight among the pigtails."

Rexdale and Liddon, the officer of the deck, joined him in scrutinising the stranger, whose decks seemed to be crowded with men, among whom a struggle was evidently taking place.

Suddenly the commander exclaimed: "There goes a man overboard, and the scoundrels don't mean to stop for him!"

"He may be dead," suggested Staples coolly. "He seemed to be muffled in black, which isn't the fashionable costume for a Chinese coolie."

"We must pick him up," said Dave with energy. "He's alive and struggling. I can see his head now – I believe it's a negro. Port your helm a little, Mr. Staples. Head for the man and get your lifeboat ready!"

"Port, Quartermaster!" commanded the executive. Then, raising his trumpet to his lips, he shouted, "Man the lifeboat!"

It should be understood that the Osprey, like most gunboats of her class, carried two large "whaleboats." These were kept ready for lowering quickly, when the ship was at sea. The one which happened to be on the lee side at any given time was the "lifeboat." There is always a "lifeboat's crew" on watch, while at sea, permanently detailed, all fully drilled in their duties.

Staples's voice rang like a bugle-call throughout the ship and in an instant every man in the lifeboat crew was on his feet and racing for his station.

"Steady, Quartermaster," commanded Rexdale. "Keep her as she is. You're heading straight for him."

"Aye, aye, sir! East-north-east, sir!" responded the quartermaster.

"I'll relieve you, Mr. Liddon," said Staples. "You go down and look out for the boat!"

By this time the boat-crew were clambering into the lee whaleboat, led by Midshipman Starr, who had cleared the wardroom ladder in a flying leap at the first order from the bridge. Within sixty seconds from the call "Man the lifeboat!" the boat was ready for lowering. In the stern-sheets stood the coxswain, steering oar in hand, with every nerve alert and tense; the bow oarsman had cast off the end of the "sea painter," but kept a turn with it around the forward thwart. The other men were seated on the thwarts, two of them with boat-hooks, with which they were prepared to push the boat off from the ship's side while being lowered, as the Osprey was rolling a little in a cross swell. Bob Starr was beside the coxswain, and awaited the command for lowering, as he tried to catch a glimpse of the drowning man in the sea far ahead.

When the alarm was first given the Osprey was making about ten knots an hour, which would call for six minutes to cover the intervening mile. Rexdale knew better than to slow up and lower his boat at once, thus increasing this time and the risk of losing the man.

"Port a little more, Quartermaster!" ordered the captain. "Mr. Staples," he added, "whistle down to the engine-room and tell them to give us all the speed they can."

After a brief colloquy through the tube the executive reported: "They can do a little better, sir, but not much. They were just starting to clean fires."

Liddon, on the quarter-deck, now called out, "All ready the lifeboat, sir!"

"Very well, Mr. Liddon," returned Staples. "Hold on all till I give you the order to lower."

Four minutes went by, with only an occasional growl from Dave: "Port a little! steady, now! Starboard a little! Steer a steady course there at the wheel – you're yawing all round the compass! There you are! See if you can hold her steady at that!"

The man in the water was now about two hundred yards away.

"Stop both engines, Mr. Staples!"

The executive, who was already standing with his hand on the lever of the port indicator, swung it sharply to "Stop," while the quartermaster, at the starboard indicator, did the same.

"Half speed astern with both engines!" commanded the captain. "Stand by to lower, Mr. Staples!"

Again the signal levers swung, and the executive called out, "Stand by to lower, Mr. Liddon, as soon as we stop backing!"

The ship slowed down, trembling under the reversed strokes of the powerful screw and rolling sheets of white foam from beneath each quarter.

"Stop both engines!" ordered Dave.

"Stop, sir!"

"Lower away, Mr. Staples!"

"Lower away, sir!" and an instant later the boat sank to the water, was detached, and was pulling rapidly toward the swimmer, who, when first abandoned by the junk, had paddled about irresolutely, but was now making his way steadily toward the boat.

"It's a negro, fast enough," observed Staples, gazing through his binoculars. "He's as black as the ace of spades."

"Give her half-speed, Mr. Staples," directed Rexdale, whose whole mind was now on the management of his ship, "and come round to pick them up!"

Again the signal jingled in the engine-room, and the ship, with helm a-starboard, circled round the lifeboat.

"Up oars! Shove off!" commanded Starr in low tones, as soon as the boat had detached itself from the patent hooks. "Let fall!"

The orders were repeated sharply by the coxswain, the oars dropped into the rowlocks, and were brought level with the rail, with blades horizontal.

"Give way together!" and away went the boat on its errand of mercy, foaming over the choppy sea, toward the struggling swimmer.

"Way enough!" ordered the midshipman, as they approached the black, woolly head bobbing about in the water.

Bob stood up in the stern-sheets, as the boat lost its headway. Suddenly a look of wonder came into his face, succeeded by a suppressed chuckle, to the amazement of the men, no one of whom, however, broke discipline by turning his head.

"In bows!" called the coxswain, in response to Starr's order. "Stand by there, to pull the man in! Hold water! Stern all!"

Again a ripple of amusement shot over the midshipman's jolly face, which grew red in his attempts to suppress his emotions.

The next moment the bow oarsman reached down and with a great effort pulled the dripping castaway in over the side.

A roar of laughter rang out from the boat's crew.

"A dog! A big Newfoundland!" exclaimed the coxswain, as the animal, sinking down in the bottom of the boat with a low whine, gave himself a shake that sent the water flying over the men. "Shall we throw him over again, sir?"

"No, no," laughed Bob, resuming his seat. "He's too fine an animal to drown. Get back to the ship. That's enough, men! Silence!"

Rexdale, Staples, and Liddon had already made out the character of the supposed "man overboard," and were shaking with laughter when Bob returned. The duty remained, however, of hoisting the boat and resuming the course to Chemulpo.

"Lead along and man the lifeboat's falls!" shouted the executive.

The boat pulled up to the leeward side of the ship – the engines having been stopped – and a line was thrown to her. This was deftly caught by the bow oarsman and a turn taken around the forward thwart. The boat, by means of this line and skilful management of the steering oar in the hands of the coxswain, was sheered in under her falls, which had already been overhauled down so that the lower blocks were within easy reach of the men in the boat. The ship in the meantime was forging slowly ahead. A line was thrown from her stern to a man in the stern of the boat, who took a turn and held on, to keep the boat from swinging violently forward when she should leave the water.

The falls were now hooked on, having been previously manned on deck by a long row of men reaching half the length of the ship, ready to run the boat up quickly, at the order.

"Haul taut!" commanded Liddon, who was standing on the ship's rail, watching affairs. "Hoist away!"

Up came the boat, crew and all, to the davits. The men clambered out and, with some difficulty, passed down the dog, who seemed disinclined for further adventures.

"Full speed ahead!" jingled the engine-room bell, at Staples's command, and the Osprey, brought to her old course, once more started for Chemulpo.

The dog, a big, shaggy Newfoundland, soon regained his composure, and wagged his way along the deck with the greatest good-humour.

"He's a fine fellow, anyway," said Dave, patting the broad head. "I'm glad we hove to for him."

"What's this written on his collar," queried Liddon, taking the wet leather band in his hands and turning it, so as to read some rude characters apparently scratched with the point of a knife.

Dave glanced down carelessly, then sprang up the steps to the bridge.

"Starboard, Quartermaster," he ordered in sharp, quick tones. "Mr. Staples, head her dead for that junk!"

Liddon was already by his side. After the first instant he did not wonder at the commander's sudden change of course. He, too, had read the two words, scrawled on the dripping leather collar.

"Shanghaied – Scupp."

Both officers understood in a moment the whole story of the seaman's mysterious disappearance. They reasoned with the quickness of sailors – and correctly, as it afterwards appeared – that Scupp had yielded to his one unfortunate weakness, a fondness for liquor, during his liberty on shore. Once inside the rum shop he had been plied with spirits, probably drugged – for the Chinese are experts in the use of opium – and while insensible carried on board the junk, to be shipped on board a Russian man-of-war. So many men had deserted for that purpose that there was little likelihood of the man's objecting when he found himself actually pressed (or "shanghaied," to use an old sailor's term for this sort of forcible enlistment), and offered wages double those he had been earning. While the Russian navy would not instigate such a daring breach of the law of nations it was highly improbable that they would reject a good seaman, trained to his work by the United States.

In kidnapping Master Richard Scupp, however, the Chinese made a bad mistake. Now that he was sober Dick had no idea of deserting his colours or taking service under a foreign flag. He came to his senses just as the junk cleared the chops of the harbour of Chefoo, and within five minutes he had laid out three of his captors and was himself knocked down. He found himself lying beside a big dog, who licked his face and expressed his willingness to aid his new friend, so far as he was able, to escape. Without definite purpose Dick scratched the two words on the dog's collar with the point of his sheath knife. This act was detected by the observant Chinese, but they could see no harm in his amusing himself in that way and were rather glad for the dog to keep him out of mischief.

About half an hour later there was a commotion and a jabbering of tongues among the pig-tailed crew. Dick stood up and caught sight of the Osprey heading toward the junk at full speed. This drove him wild again. Bowling over the nearest Chinaman he sprang for a spare spar, intending to jump overboard and take his chances of being picked up. The crew crowded him back, and the dog, putting his forepaws on the rail, barked joyously at the gunboat which poor Dick vainly longed to reach.

A thought struck the kidnapped sailor as he watched the dog. Before any one could stop him he leaped to the side of the junk and tossed the animal overboard. He knew the Newfoundland could swim like a fish, and, providing a shark did not drag him under, there was just a chance that the officers of the Osprey might see the dog and, picking him up, read the message on his collar. The plan, as we have seen, succeeded admirably.

Dick had the satisfaction of watching the gunboat as it slowed down and sent a boat to his four-footed messenger struggling in the sea. The Chinese, as he had expected, were angry at the loss of the dog, but did not dare risking a visit from the United States war-ship by throwing their boat up into the wind and rescuing the black swimmer.

"They'll know where I am, anyhow, if they only read that collar," said poor Dick to himself, as the junk rapidly drew away.

He was now forced down on the deck behind the rail lest he should be made out through the glasses of his officers, which the Chinese knew must be scrutinising the craft which had left behind such a peculiar bit of jetsam.

The Osprey quivered from stem to stern, under the pressure upon her engines. The firemen guessed that something unusual was in the wind, and, stripped to the waist, kept the furnace doors clanging and the fires roaring under her boilers.

"We're walking right up on her!" said Staples excitedly, as he and Dave watched the chase. "Is it any use to signal to them to stop? Do they understand the signals?"

"We'll signal in a way they will understand," exclaimed Rexdale, "if they don't obey the flags. Call the signal-men!"

In response to a shrill whistle two men came clambering up to the bridge and stood ready to execute orders.

"Set 'Stop at once,'" commanded Dave, "General Merchant Code."

A string of gay little flags mounted to the signal yard. They produced not the slightest effect on the flying junk, which was plunging its nose into the waves and scurrying eastward before the wind at not less than nine or ten knots an hour.

"Pass the word for the crew of the forward port three-pounder, Mr. Staples! Stations! Cast loose and provide!"

The orders were repeated, and four gunners sprang to their places. In a twinkling the captain of the crew had removed the gun-cover and tompion and cast adrift the gun-lashings; Number Two had gone over all the mechanism of the mount and provided revolvers and ammunition for all four; Numbers Three and Four brought cartridges and swabs, and took positions in rear of the breech of the gun.

"Load!"

The breech was opened, a cartridge inserted, and the block swung back into place and clamped. The junk was now only about one thousand yards distant. The Osprey, closing up from the south, held a course at an acute angle with that of the fugitive, to head her off.

The best marksman of the gun-crew now stood at the breech, and, with his shoulder against the padded crutch, slowly and carefully brought the Chinaman within the sighting line.

"Drop a shot across her forefoot," ordered the commander.

"Commence firing!"

The gun roared, and a big splash just in front of the junk testified to the correct aim of the pointer, and at the same time spoke in a language that could not be misunderstood. The vessel veered round, spilling the wind out of her great, oddly-shaped sail, which hung flapping from its huge yard.

The Osprey had now forged up within a few times her own length and slowed down.

"Mr. Liddon," said Dave with energy, "you will take the starboard quarter-boat and board that vessel. Arm your crew with cutlasses and revolvers, and if her captain can understand English, tell him I'll blow him out of the water if he doesn't hand over my man."

"Ay, ay, sir!" returned Liddon, delighted with his commission.

For the second time within an hour the boat glided down from the davits, and went tossing over the waves, driven by eight pairs of brawny arms.

Before they could reach the side of the junk, a chorus of shouts came from the gunboat they had just left.

"Man overboard! Man overboard! Stand by to pick him up!"

The fact was that when the Chinamen saw that the formidable war-ship was really in earnest, a panic seized them. They all shrieked and jabbered together, as their vessel hove to, and Dick Scupp plainly saw that more trouble was coming for him. There seemed to be a dispute between two factions on the junk, one of which screamed and pointed first to Dick and then to the Osprey, and the other pointed as furiously to the hold of the junk. Comprehending that they were discussing whether to restore him to his own ship, or to hide him below decks – possibly with a knife in his heart – and declare innocence, the sailor made ready for action.

The party demanding his concealment seemed to have carried their point, for a number of them now made a rush for Dick, with fierce eyes and with daggers drawn. The seaman sprang to his feet, catching one of his guards with a blow under the ear and tripping the other to the deck. Before a hand could be laid upon him he bounded over the rail into the sea, and began to swim vigorously toward the approaching boat.

All efforts of the crew of the latter were now directed to saving the life of their comrade. Liddon steered skilfully up to him and a moment later he was dragged in over the gunwale, gasping and sputtering. The junk, meanwhile, caught the wind over her bows and filled away again toward the north-east. The Osprey waited to pick up her boat, as the Chinamen thought she would, and another chase was in prospect.

"Stave her to bits! It's an insult to the United States! We can catch up with her in five minutes!" urged the junior officers of the gunboat, gathering around their commander, forgetful of discipline.

Rexdale shook his head, though his teeth were set and his face red with suppressed anger. "We can prove nothing," he said. "They'll swear he was a deserter and concealed himself on board. Uncle Sam doesn't want to take on China or anybody else in this scrappy country just now. We'd be blamed and court-martialled if we should sink a junkful of Chinamen for no better reason than the one we have."

He turned to the pilot. "Full speed ahead, on her course for Chemulpo." Then, calling down to the gun-captain, "Unload and secure!"

Dick was duly disciplined for absenting himself beyond leave, but, considering the hard experience he had undergone, his punishment was made nominal, with a not very severe reprimand from the commander. The dog was named "Junk" and became the rival of the black kitten – though very friendly with her – as the mascot of the Osprey.

CHAPTER XVIII.

OSHIMA GOES A-FISHING

Captain Oshima (promoted from lieutenancy for bravery on the field), of the 10th Regiment in the Second Japanese Army, under General Odzer, was fishing. Like most of the Japanese soldiers he had brought from home, among other effects, a small fishing-line and several hooks. There were hours and even days when he was called upon to perform no active duty beyond routine drills, and in memory of the days when he and Oto used to tramp the brook-sides of dear old Japan, displaying their trophies at night to gently admiring O-Hana-San and the other prim little maids of the village, he had determined to try his luck in this strange, war-swept Manchuria. The hill-tops might be wreathed in battle-smoke and the plains heaped with dead and dying; but in obscure valleys and down slopes which had thus far escaped the tread of martial forces, the ploughshare of the steel shell and the terrible harrow of shrapnel, streamlets laughed and flowed blithely along their pebbled courses, and tiny trout darted to and fro as merrily as in the dreamy days of peace and plenty. So Oshima went a-fishing.

Unrolling his line and attaching it to a neat little pole, cut in a near-by thicket, he took his seat on a boulder and dropped his baited hook in one of the quieter pools of a brook that fed an upper branch of the Faitse River. It was warm, and Oshima took a fan from his pocket and fanned himself gravely as he fished. Every Japanese soldier is provided with a fan. Oshima had often looked back on his company, and on the column trailing behind, on a long march under the scorching Manchurian sun in June, and had seen a thousand little fans fluttering beside the heads of the men.