Captain Jinks, Hero Part 13

They drove now through some narrow streets, past various native cafes half open to the air, where the _habitues_ were beginning to collect, through a picturesque gate in the old city wall, and out on the Boulevard, which was now filled with people driving and walking. It was a gay scene, and reminded Cleary of some of the cities of the Mediterranean which he had visited.

"They're not quite as much like Apaches as I expected," said Sam, and neither of his friends ventured to respond.

"We haven't got time to go out to where the ships are sunk," said Foster, "but if we drive up that hill and get out and walk up a little farther we can see them in the distance. I've got my gla.s.ses with me."

In a few minutes they were at this point of vantage in a sort of unfrequented public park, and the three men took turns in looking at the distant wrecks through the captain's field-gla.s.s.

"It was a great victory, wasn't it?" said Sam.

"Well, perhaps it was," answered Foster; "but the fact is, that those old boats could hardly float and their guns couldn't reach our ships.

We just took our time and blew them up and set them on fire, and the crews were roasted or drowned, that was all there was of it. I don't think much of naval men anyway, to tell the truth. They don't compare with the army. They're always running their ships aground if there's any ground to run into."

"Anyhow, if it had been a strong fleet we'd have wiped it out just the same, wouldn't we?" said Sam.

"Undoubtedly," said Foster. "It's a pity, tho, that the fight didn't test our naval armaments better. It didn't prove anything. If we'd only used our torpedo-boats, and they'd got out their torpedo-boat destroyers, and then we'd had some torpedo-boat-destroyer destroyers, and----"

"Yes," interrupted Cleary, "it is a pity."

"But it wasn't Admiral Hercules's fault," said Sam. "His glory ought to be just as great."

"Hercules! Hercules!" shouted Foster. "What had Hercules to do with it?

He's a first-cla.s.s fraud. It was Slewey who won the battle. You don't mean to tell me that you are Hercules men?"

Sam and Cleary tried in vain to explain their position, but Foster would not listen to them. The breach evidently was irreparable. He magnanimously turned over the cab to them, and went back to the city in another vehicle.

"Well, this is strange," said Sam. "I liked everything about Captain Foster, but I don't understand this."

"Oh, you will tho, old man," said Cleary. "I've found out this morning that it's the same thing all through the army and navy here. They're hardly any of them on speaking terms. If it isn't one thing it's another. It's the Whoppington fashion, that's all. The general of the army won't speak to the adjutant-general there, and they're always smuggling bills into Congress to retire each other, and that spirit runs all the way down through both services. I'm a civilian now, and I can see with a little perspective. I don't know why military people are always squabbling like the women in an old ladies' home. No other professions do; it's queer. It's getting to be better to lose a battle than to win it, for then you don't have to fight for a year or two to find out who won it."

Sam entered a feeble protest against Cleary's criticisms, and the two relapsed into silence.

"Who did win that naval victory anyhow?" said Sam at last.

"That's just what I'd like to know," responded Cleary. "One of the admirals admits he wasn't there, and, if we are to believe the naval people, the other one spent most of his time dodging around the smokestack. But I think they're a little too hard on him; I can't imagine why. I hear they're going to establish a permanent court at Whoppington to determine who wins victories in future. It's not a bad idea. My own view is that that battle won itself, and I shouldn't be surprised if that was the way with most battles. It would be fun to run a war without admirals and generals and see how it would come out. I don't believe there'd be much difference. At any rate it looks so, if what the navy says is true, and one of the admirals was away and the other playing tag on the forward deck of the _Philadelphia_. Rum name for a battle-ship, the _Brotherly Love_, isn't it?"

To this Sam made no answer.

On arriving at the barracks he succeeded in having a separate room a.s.signed to him, and thenceforth he and Foster were strangers.

CHAPTER VII

The Battle of San Diego

[Ill.u.s.tration]

During the next few days there was much activity in the army. It was clear that there was an expedition in preparation. All sorts of rumors were floating about, but it was impossible to verify any of them. Some said that Gomaldo was advancing with a large army; others, that he had surrendered and that the army was about to take peaceable possession of the islands. Meanwhile Sam's position in the 200th Infantry was most unpleasant. Foster was a popular man in the regiment, and he had set all the officers against him. It was unfortunately a Slewey regiment, and it was too late for Sam to change sides--a thing which he was quite ready to do. He made up his mind never to mention the two admirals again, and regretted that he had named them once too often. He complained to Cleary.

"I'm afraid," he said, "that there's no chance of my doing anything.

The colonel will see to it that I am out of the way if there's anything to do. I might as well have stayed at East Point."

"Brace up, old man! I've got an idea," said Cleary. "I'll fix you all right. Just you wait till to-morrow or the day after."

The next day in the afternoon Sam received an order to report at once at the headquarters of General Laughter. He hastened to obey, and was ushered into the presence of that distinguished officer in the palace.

It was an impressive sight that met his eyes. The general was believed to weigh some three hundred pounds, but he looked as if he weighed nearer five hundred. He was dressed in a white duck suit with bra.s.s b.u.t.tons, the jacket unb.u.t.toned in front and showing his underclothes.

He was suffering a good deal from the heat, and fanning himself incessantly. Several members of his staff were busied talking with visitors or writing at desks, but the chief was doing nothing. He was seated in a superb arm-chair with his back to a pier-gla.s.s.

"Ah! captain," he said. "I'm glad to see you. Have a whisky and soda?

I've a.s.signed you to duty on my staff. Report here again to-morrow at ten and have your things moved over to the palace. Major Stroud will show you your quarters, captain!"

Major Stroud advanced and shook hands with Sam. He was every inch a soldier in appearance, but old enough to be a retired field-marshal.

The three indulged in whiskies and soda, and Sam took his leave after a brief formal conversation. He found Cleary waiting for him in the street.

"How on earth did you do it?" cried Sam.

"It's the B. A. C. L.," said Cleary.

"The what!"

"The Benevolent a.s.similation Company, Limited. What do you suppose?

With _The Daily Lyre_ thrown in too."

"Oh! thank you, thank you, my dear, dear friend," e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Sam, with tears in his eyes. "I was beginning to think that my whole life was a failure, and here I am just in the very best place in the world. I won't disappoint you, I won't disappoint you!"

In the few days at the barracks of the 200th Infantry, Sam had learned something of regimental work, and now he applied himself a.s.siduously to the study of the business of the headquarters of a general in command in the field, for the army was practically in the field. At first it all seemed to him to be a maze quite without a plan, and he hoped that in time he would begin to see the outline of a system. But the more he observed the less system he saw. Everything that could be postponed was postponed. Responsibility was shifted from one staff officer to another. No one was held accountable for anything, and general confusion seemed to reign. The place was besieged with contractors and agents, and the staff was nearly worried to death. The general was always very busy--fanning himself--and the days went on.

One morning a fellow member of the staff, a young lieutenant whom he scarcely knew, called Sam aside and asked him for a half-hour's conference. They went off together into a deserted room, and the lieutenant began the conversation in a whisper.

"See here, Captain," said he, "we're looking for a patriotic fellow who cares more for his country than his own reputation. We understand that you're just the man."

"I hope so," said Sam, delighted at the prospect of an opportunity to distinguish himself.

"It's a rather delicate matter," continued the lieutenant, "and I must say it's rather a compliment to you to be selected for the job. The fact is, that Captain Jones is in trouble. He's about $3,000 short in his accounts."

"How did that happen?" asked Sam.

"Oh, that's not the point. I don't see that it makes any difference.

But we've got to get him out of the sc.r.a.pe. The honor of the army is at stake. Civilians don't understand us. They don't appreciate our standards of honor. And if this thing gets out they'll charge us with all kinds of things. We've got to raise $3,000. That's all there is of it."

"Good heavens! how can we?" cried Sam. "I've hardly got anything left of my pay, but I can give, say $25, on the next pay-day."

"We're not going to pa.s.s the hat around. That would be beneath the dignity of the army. What we want you to do is this--and, indeed, we have settled it that you should do it. You are to go to-morrow afternoon to Banks & Company, the army contractors, and have a confidential talk with Banks. Tell him you must have $3,000 at once.

Here's a letter of introduction to him. He will see that you represent the people that run things here. Tell him that his contracts will probably be preferred to Short & Co.'s, and tell him that for the future we shan't inspect his things as closely as we have in the past.

You needn't go into particulars. He will understand. It's an ordinary business matter."

"I don't quite like the idea," said Sam, ruminating. "Why don't you go yourself?"