The Marines Have Landed Part 20

No feeling of disappointment prevailed among the _Denver's_ crew upon receipt of the news that they were en route to aid in putting down a full-fledged rebellion, and everybody was once again full of cheerfulness and smiles. This elation was particularly noticeable among the marines, for if there was "anything doing" ash.o.r.e their partic.i.p.ation was a foregone conclusion. The mere fact that a thousand of their fellows were already sailing from Philadelphia was indication enough that the situation was critical.

Time and again the marines had been rushed here and there and everywhere to police up this or that fractious republic; it was an old yet ever new story with them, and though the activities and general status of this fighting branch of Uncle Sam's armed forces were obscure to the majority of people at home, they were well known and greatly respected in those lands where they labored, fought and often died in their country's service.

Richard and Henry were greatly excited over the prospect and worked with a will the following day in getting out stores, munitions, clothing and otherwise preparing for the hoped-for duty ash.o.r.e.

"It's lucky we went to Guantanamo, d.i.c.k, else we might not have had any experience with these big Colt's forty-fives we pack around on our hips," Henry remarked.

The two lads were at the time carefully oiling and cleaning their heavy revolvers, the weapons the "musics" of the Corps carried into conflict.

Splendid shooting arms they were, too, and during the stay in Cuba they had received a certain amount of practise with them in connection with the Navy Small Arms Course, wherein scores with both rifle and revolver were required.

As he spoke, Henry whirled the open cylinder about, and with a clever twist of the wrist snapped it shut, then pointing the empty revolver at a pa.s.sing man he snapped the hammer rapidly.

"Stop that!" came a curt command, and looking up Henry found Corporal Dorlan standing over him. The look in Dorlan's eye was not pleasant to see, and the usual good-natured smile was missing from the older man's face.

"Stop what?" asked Henry, flushing because of the harshness in Dorlan's voice and glance.

"Stop that foolishness! Ye ought to be gettin' sense in the noodle of ye after bein' these months in the marines."

"I reckon I've as much sense and maybe a little more than some marines around here, who've been in as many hitches[#] as I have months, and I don't need a trial by Summary Court to teach me lessons," and Henry glared hotly at the veteran soldier.

[#] "Hitches"--Enlisted man's term for enlistments.

"If that's the case, me lad, let's see ye use it, both in yer actions and yer manners," said Dorlan, and the twinkle was now returning to the gray-blue eyes; "but I'll tell ye one thing sure;--it won't be a 'summary' but a 'general' ye will be after gettin' if ye go around so careless like aimin' and shootin' yer gun at human bein's, and ye can put that in your pipe and shmoke it for the rest of yer life, and 'twill do ye a wurrld of good."

By this time Henry's better nature a.s.serted itself and rising he put out his hand frankly and asked the elder man to excuse his unwisely chosen words.

Richard, witnessing the incident, was happy to see these two good friends of his settle so amicably what might have developed into a bitter animosity on the part of the young Southerner.

"Now that 'the battle is over, Mother Dear,'" quoted d.i.c.k, "suppose you sit down, Corporal Michael Dorlan, and tell us the causes of the Revolutionary War."

"And I could do that too, me lad," said Dorlan, smiling at Richard, whom he claimed as his own particular protege, "but I'll sit me down and tell ye somethin' that may be of interest and profit to the two of yez."

Seating himself on a near-by sea-chest, Dorlan continued:

"Just a bit ago, young man, I saw ye pointin' a gun at one of yer shipmates and not only that, but pullin' of the trigger," and he looked severely at Henry.

"What of that? The revolver wasn't loaded--it couldn't harm anyone,"

stated Henry.

"That's where ye are wrong, lad, for it's the gun what ain't loaded which generally goes off and kills yer best friend. It's the kind of accident ye read about in almost any paper ye pick up in any part of the world, and I'd make a bet with ye that the weapon the other fellow 'didn't know was loaded' since the invention of gun-powder has caused more deaths and serious accidents than have the aimed shots in actual warfare."

"But, Corporal, I knew my pistol was empty," protested Henry; "I looked through the cylinder before I closed it. Besides, we've had no ammunition given us."

"Nevertheless, what I say is true, Henry, and here is a safe rule for ye to follow for the rest of your life: never point a gun, loaded or unloaded, at any human bein' unless ye mean to kill or wound him."

At the instant Dorlan finished speaking a half dozen laughing bluejackets came running around a corner into the marines' compartment.

Following in close pursuit was a companion flourishing a noosed rope in one hand and a revolver in the other. As he appeared he called out:

"Catch the bandits!"

It was innocent horse play and the men in the vicinity turned to watch the chase. The "bandits" disappeared through a door on the port side of the deck, the pursuer aimed his revolver at them and pulled on the double-action trigger. There was a loud report and a leaden bullet flattened itself harmlessly against the iron bulkhead.

The young apprentice seaman who had fired the shot stopped short and, with a white face, looked in horror at the smoking weapon as it fell from his nerveless grasp to the deck.

"I never knew it was loaded!" he cried hoa.r.s.ely.

Reaching for the heavy Colt's, Corporal Dorlan picked it up and broke open the cylinder,--every chamber but the one just discharged was filled with death.

"Come up to the Officer of the Deck, young feller," ordered Dorlan grimly, taking the trembling sailor by the arm, and as they turned to leave, he looked towards d.i.c.k and Henry, saying:

"As I said before--never point a gun unless ye mean to kill."

No more salutary lesson could have been given than old Mike's talk and its startling sequel.

Out into the windward pa.s.sage; northward then eastward into the trade-wind-tossed, white-capped waters of the Atlantic; past the mountainous sh.o.r.es of Haiti and the famous or infamous island of Tortuga, whence came the buccaneers and their notorious chief, Sir Henry Morgan.

Then the character of the land changed from rugged mountains rising at the sh.o.r.e line to low, gray, misty ranges rearing their serrated ridges far inland. Finally from out the sea a lone peak reared its crest; growing ever higher and higher--the well-known Monte Granero, so called by the great discoverer when he first saw it, and from the summit of which can be seen the site where now are the ruins of New Isabella on the northern sh.o.r.e of San Domingo. On the low-lying plain a few miles southwestward from the base of the mountain was the straggling town of Monte Cristi, sweltering in the morning sunshine.

Since before dawn the spluttering snap of the wireless filled the air on board the _Denver_ as the message sped through the intervening miles of s.p.a.ce to the flagship lying in the open bay off Cabras Island.

Captain Bentley on the bridge read the aerograms with interest, and particularly the last one.

"Large force rebels reported operating vicinity Samana Bay. Proceed to Sanchez, investigate conditions, protect American and foreign lives and property. Guard customs. Report conditions."

"We will continue on our present bearing, Mr. Ogden," said the Captain; "read this, and send word to the Navigating Officer to report to me at once in my cabin."

Captain Bentley then went below, and soon was poring over the chart of Samana Bay, one of the finest harbors and most desirable bases in the whole of the West Indies.

CHAPTER XII

SEnOR PEREZ ASKS FOR AID

Before the mud caused by the dropping anchor rose to the surface of the water, a sh.o.r.e boat containing two oarsmen and one pa.s.senger put out from the wharf and pulled for the _Denver_. That the pa.s.senger was in a hurry was evidenced by his gesticulating hands, and by the black cotton umbrella held by its bulging center which he waved in an attempt to make the clumsy boatmen pull together. From under the white cork helmet his dark face worked spasmodically as with a mixture of Spanish, English and German words he urged on his laggard crew.

Interested sailors and marines lined the ship's rail, watching the approach of the stout, excited little foreigner. His rapid speech was now quite audible though not intelligible.

"He is giving those peons what my mother would call 'gowdy,'" said d.i.c.k to Henry, "and that is her worst swear word."

"Meaning our excitable friend is rather strong in his choice of expletives?" inquired Henry.