Fighting in Cuban Waters: or, Under Schley on the Brooklyn

CHAPTER XIII

IN WHICH THE GOLD PIECE COMES TO LIGHT

"Where now?" was the question which more than one man on board of the

Brooklyn

 asked himself. But no answer was forthcoming. The commodore, captain, and commander knew, of course, but they kept the information to themselves. In war it is a rule not to let the enemy know what you are doing until you do it, and so a strict guard was kept, so that no information might leak out. Yet Spanish spies in Canada learned a good deal, and notified the home government as quickly as it could be done.

From Charleston the course was almost due south, and both Si and Caleb came to the conclusion that the flagship and her sister craft were bound for Cuban waters. "Perhaps we're going to join in the blockading of Havana," remarked the old gunner.

"Oh, I hope not," said Walter. "Riding in one spot day after day must be awfully tiresome. I'd like to hunt the Spaniards out and do them battle, as Dewey did. He didn't waste any time."

Dewey's name was to be heard constantly, for the jackies never got done talking about this first great victory of the war. Some of them had served on the

Olympia

,

Boston

, and other vessels of the Asiatic Squadron, and they described just how these boats were built, and what parts they must have taken in the contest.

"Don't grow impatient, Walter," said Caleb. "We'll run up against something soon – perhaps more than you care for. It's easy enough to think of sinking an enemy's ship. Supposing he puts a few thirteen-inch shells through your craft, and you begin to go down – what then?"

"I'll make the best of it," returned the boy, calmly. "I enlisted to fight for Uncle Sam, and I'm willing to take what comes."

Jim Haskett was passing when Walter made this remark, and his lip curled with a sneer. "That boy is too big for his boots," muttered the seaman. "I can't see what the other men find in him to like."

Jim Haskett was more sour than ever, for his disagreeable ways had lost to him the few friends he had picked up when first coming on board. The fact that Si and Walter were growing more popular every day caused him fairly to grate his teeth with rage.

"I'll fix him, see if I don't," he told himself that night. "They shan't tell everybody that I took that gold piece – when I didn't touch his bag."

Jim Haskett was one of those mean, unscrupulous men, who do a wrong and then try to argue themselves into thinking that it is all right. It was not true that he had taken the ten-dollar gold piece from Si's bag, but it

was

 true that he had found the Yankee boy's satchel overturned and partly open, and had closed it up and locked it, and afterward found the money on the floor of the car within a few feet of where the bag had stood. Any fair-minded man would have told himself that the gold piece must be the one lost by Si; but Haskett was not fair-minded, and it was doubtful if the man could ever become so, any more than a dwarfed and crippled tree can be forced to become straight and upright.

On Monday morning, the day after leaving Charleston Bar, Haskett heard Caleb tell Walter and Si that the gun must be cleaned and oiled. "We'll go over the piece from top to bottom to-morrow," said the old gunner, "and if there is anything more that you don't understand I'll explain it to you."

"This is my chance," said Haskett to himself, and lost no time in bringing forth the gold piece from the place where he had hidden it. Watching his opportunity, when Caleb, Si, and Walter were asleep that night, he secreted the piece in a corner of the track upon which the gun-base revolved.

Inside of half an hour after breakfast the next day, Walter, stripped to the waist, was working over the gun, in company with his friends and Steve Colton, the second gun-captain, and Carl Stuben, the hose-man. All were supplied with cotton waste, polishing-paste, and rags, and in a short while the bright portions of the gun shone like a mirror.

"There, I reckon that will suit the chief gunner," was Caleb's remark as he stood back to inspect the work. "No piece on the starboard side brighter than this, I'll wager my month's pay."

Si was bending down under the gun, swabbing up some oil which had run down from one of the working joints. Suddenly the Yankee youth threw down his swab and caught up something which shone in spite of the dirt upon it.

"My gold piece, as sure as you're born!" he ejaculated, after he had made an inspection at the porthole. "Now how in creation did that get there?"

He looked at Caleb, and half unconsciously both turned to Walter.

"What's that?" asked the youth.

"My gold piece – I found it hidden under the gun-track," answered Si.

Walter's face turned red, as he remembered what Jim Haskett had said concerning his talking in his sleep. "Why, Si – are – are you sure it is your piece?" he faltered.

"Certainly. There is the date, 1876 – centennial year, and here is a scratch I once made with my jack-knife. It's the very one that was taken from my bag, beyond any doubt."

Si continued to look at Walter, while Caleb suddenly turned and gazed out of the porthole, while Stuben, the hose-man, whistled softly to himself.

"Why, Si, have you got your money back?" cried Paul, who had just chanced up.

"Yes."

"And where did you find it?"

"Under the gun, by the track." And Si pointed out the place with his forefinger.

"Under the gun! Why, that is where Haskett said Walter hid it!" was Paul's comment, before he stopped to think twice. "I mean – that is, Haskett said something about it," he stammered.

"I know he did," answered the Yankee youth, coldly.

Walter's face was burning hotly now, and he could scarcely trust himself to speak. "Si, do you think I put that money there?" he asked in a strained voice.

"I'm sure I don't know what to think," was the dogged answer, and now Si turned his gaze away. "Haskett said – well, you know what, – and Cal Blinker backed him up in it," he went on, hesitatingly.

"Yes, I know what Haskett and Blinker said," answered Walter. "But – but – do you think I stole your money?" The words would scarcely come, but he forced them out.

"I don't say that, Walter; but the whole thing looks mighty queer."

"I have it!" burst out Caleb. "Perhaps Walter put the money there when he was asleep. Folks often do queer things when they have the nightmare."

"Yes, but if he put it there while he was asleep, how did he come by it in the first place?" questioned Si, bluntly.

"Perhaps he took it out of the bag while he was asleep on the train," suggested Caleb. "You had the bag with you all the way from Boston, didn't you?"

"Yes."

"And Walter bunked with you, too?"

"He did."

"Then it's as plain as day," went on the old gunner. "Walter took the money while you were asleep on the train and hid it away in his clothing, or somewhere. When he got on board he took to sleep-walking and put the piece under the gun. Of course he doesn't know anything about the transaction."

Again all eyes were turned upon Walter, whose face was as red as ever. "Perhaps that's true – but it's mighty queer," murmured Colton, the second gun-captain.

"I don't believe I did anything of the sort!" cried the youth, at last. "I can give you my word on it that I never saw Si's money until just now. To my mind, this whole matter is a job put up by Jim Haskett. He took the money, and then when Si raised such an ado about it he was afraid to get it changed or to spend it, and he watched his chance to get rid of it. He's down on me, and when he heard me mutter in my sleep he formed his plan to get me into trouble. I'm going to find Haskett on the spot." And off he rushed before anybody could detain him.

Haskett was discovered mending his jacket, which had become torn the evening before. "What do you want?" he asked, as Walter ran up and caught him fiercely by the arm.

"I want you to own up to your dirty trick on me," answered the boy. "You thought you had me, but your little plot won't work."

"What do you mean?" blustered Haskett, although he knew well enough what was coming.

By this time the crowd had followed Walter, and they gathered round the pair. Soon Haskett had heard all there was to say.

"Don't lay it off on me," he cried. "I knew Russell was guilty from the start. Si Doring can think as he pleases. As for me, I'm glad that I'm not training with a night-walker – or a thief."

Walter leaped forward with blazing eyes. But before he could strike out, Caleb caught him, while another man held Haskett. Then, before anything more could be done or said, Si stepped to the front.

"Haskett, I lost the money, and I think I ought to have the biggest say in this matter. If you played a trick on Walter, you are the meanest man that ever trod the deck of a ship. If you didn't, let me say that I don't think Walter stole the gold piece, although he may have taken it while he was asleep and not responsible for his doings."

"Thank you for saying that, Si," came from Walter. "But I don't think I took it even when asleep. To my mind Haskett is guilty, and nobody else."

"If I wasn't held – " began Haskett, when a young seaman named George Ellis, chief yeoman of the

Brooklyn

, stepped forward and asked to know what the trouble was about.

"I think I can tell something about this," said George Ellis, after the matter had been explained.

"You just hold your jaw!" stormed Haskett. "You don't know anything."

"I know what I see," answered the chief yeoman, pointedly; and something in his manner attracted such attention that all in the crowd gathered around to learn what he might have to say.

CHAPTER XIV

KEY WEST, AND THE LAST OF JIM HASKETT

George Ellis was known to be an upright honest man, and one whose word was worth taking upon every occasion. He had an education above that of the ordinary man in the navy, and was anxious to make something of himself while in the service of his country, never dreaming, alas! that his life was so soon to be taken from him during our struggle in the cause of humanity and Cuban freedom.

"And what did you see?" questioned Caleb, as all eyes were turned upon Ellis, inquiringly.

"It was last night," answered the Range Finder, for such was the man's popular title, given him because he was so good at determining distances. "I was rather feverish and couldn't sleep. I walked the berth deck for a while and then went up to Walton's gun and stood leaning out of the porthole, gazing at the water.

"Presently I heard a slight noise behind me, and turning around I saw in a dim way the figure of a man behind me. He was bending down under the gun, as if he was hunting for something. I was just on the point of speaking to him when he straightened up and slunk away as silently as a ghost. I watched him, and when he got under the rays of the electric light I got a good look at his face."

"And was it this man?" cried Si, pointing to Jim Haskett.

"It was."

With a cry of anger Si leaped upon Haskett and bore him to the deck. "You good-for-nothin' rascal!" he panted. "Will try to shove off your dirty tricks on Walter, eh? So you stole my money and then got afraid to use it? Take that, and that, and that!"

Each

that

 was a blow in the face, one on the cheek, another on the nose, and a third directly in Haskett's left eye. They were heavy, and Haskett roared with pain.

"Let up!" he sputtered. "Let go of me," – the latter to Caleb, who still held him. "Oh, my eye! Is this fair fighting, two to one?"

"It is as fair as you treated Walter," answered Caleb. "Give him another, Si; he deserves it." And Si followed directions by planting a blow on Haskett's neck, something which spun the former mate of the

Sunflower

 around like a top. At last Haskett broke loose and backed away.

"I'll get square on all of you!" he foamed, shaking his fist first at Caleb and then at the others. "I'm not done yet."

"I've a good mind to report you," put in Walter. "I reckon you'd be good for a month in irons, on bread and water."

At this Haskett grew pale. "The officers won't believe your story. Ellis, and the rest of you haven't any witnesses," he replied, but his voice shook. "Just wait; my day will come some time." And then, as Si started to advance again, he beat a hasty retreat.

"That settles that mystery," remarked Caleb, when the excitement was over. "I calculate, Walter, that you are not sorry the way matters came out."

"No, indeed." Walter turned to George Ellis. "I owe you one for your kindness. I'll not forget it."

"That's all right – I only did what any fair-minded fellow would do," answered the chief yeoman, and strolled away.

It was time for dinner, and Walter hurried off arm in arm with Si, who was still somewhat worked up over what had happened. "Walter, don't you go for to imagine I thought you guilty," said the Yankee boy. "I know you are honest to the core."

"Even if I do talk in my sleep," said Walter, from whose heart a great load had been lifted.

Once more the course of the Flying Squadron had been changed and now they were making straight for the coast of Florida. Tuesday passed quietly, although the same vigilance prevailed as before. It was evident, come what might, Commodore Schley did not mean to allow the enemy to catch him napping.

They had passed through the Straits of Florida, and now they turned to the westward, past a number of the Florida Reefs. Far across the ocean could be seen the low-lying shore, backed up by stately palms and other trees. The weather was now much warmer.

"You see, we are drawing closer to the equator," remarked Caleb. "I reckon we are bound for Key West." And his surmise proved correct, for they dropped anchors in Key West Harbor early on the morning following.

"What a lot of warships around here," cried Walter, as he came on deck. "What is that big fellow over yonder?"

"That is the

Iowa

," answered the old gunner. "You can well say big fellow, for the

Iowa

 is the largest seagoing battleship we possess. She has a displacement of over eleven thousand tons and can speed in any sea at over seventeen knots. She carries four 12-inch guns and a whole host of others. Her armor belt is solid steel, fourteen inches thick."

"She's a beauty. I wonder if she will go out with us?"

"That is according to what Rear Admiral Sampson has to say about it, lad. You see, this campaign in Atlantic waters is largely in his hands."

The

Iowa

 lay quite close, and during the day several messages were transmitted from one warship to the other by means of the wig-wag system. Walter had now mastered the mysteries of wig-wagging and amused himself by spelling out the messages as they passed to and fro.

A salute had been fired when the commodore entered the harbor, eleven rounds being shot off. "If he was a rear-admiral, he'd get thirteen guns," explained Caleb. "You see the salute varies from the President down. McKinley gets twenty-one guns, the Vice-President or Secretary of the Navy nineteen guns, a foreign minister fifteen guns, a consul seven guns, and so on. By counting the guns every man on the ships can tell what sort of a dignitary has arrived."

It was a cloudy day, and the air was so close that Walter was glad enough to take it easy. Presently he saw a boat leave the side, containing several petty officers and George Ellis and Jim Haskett.

"I wonder where they are going," said Walter to Si.

"Some special business for Captain Cook," answered Paul, who stood near. "Oh, but Haskett is in an ugly mood to-day. It will be a big wonder if he and Ellis don't get into a fight before they come back."

"Ellis is too much of a gentleman to fight with any one," returned Walter. "By the way, what is his real position on board?"

"He is chief yeoman," replied Si. "He is going ashore to look after some ship's stores, so I heard him tell one of the paymasters."

The small boat was soon out of sight, and Walter turned away to seek the shade, for it was growing hotter and hotter. "If this is a sample of weather in the torrid zone, what shall we do when we get into Cuban waters?" he observed.

"We are not very far from Cuban waters now," said the Yankee youth. "We could make Havana in six or seven hours if it was necessary."

"I wonder how the people of that city feel, Si, all cooped up as they have been for so long."

"I reckon they wish they had some fighting ships to come out after us, Walter. I've heard it said that General Blanco hardly knows how to turn himself, food is so scarce and so many idlers are about. It wouldn't surprise me if they had a riot there, if they haven't had one already. Even soldiers won't keep quiet when the grub fails."

But little could be seen of Key West outside of the numerous shipping. Presently a couple of petty officers came along with marine glasses and one pointed out to his companion several Spanish prizes in the port. "They'll be worth a good bit of money to the sailors on the blockade," he added. "I wish we were in for a share of the spoils."

"There are several transports," said Caleb, on joining his friends. "They are fitting out to go to Tampa. It won't be long before an army of invasion starts for Cuba."

"I wonder if my brother Ben will go along," mused Walter, but just then to get word from his older brother was impossible.

Inside of two hours the small craft came back. Somewhat to his surprise Walter saw that Jim Haskett was missing. He would not have thought much of this had it not been that the

Brooklyn

 was already preparing to continue on her trip.

"Haskett did not come back," he announced to Si. "I'll wager something is wrong."

"Oh, I guess not," said the Yankee youth; nevertheless, he, too, began to watch for the former mate of the

Sunflower

.

Several hours later Walter passed George Ellis on the upper deck and saluted. The chief yeoman hesitated and then called Walter to him.

"I suppose you and your friend will be interested to know that James Haskett has been left behind at Key West under military arrest," he began.

"Indeed! And what for, if I may ask?"

"For getting into a rough-and-tumble fight with a soldier named Grumbell. It seems Grumbell once owned a fishing-smack down East, and Haskett failed to settle up on a cargo of fish he sold for Grumbell three years ago. They had a quarrel of words and then got to blows, and Haskett hit a captain of the regulars who tried to separate them. Both he and the soldier are now in prison, and I rather imagine it will go pretty hard with the seaman, for striking a captain is no light offence." And after a few words more, George Ellis passed on.

Of course Walter lost no time in carrying the news to his friends. All listened with interest, and Si said he was glad Haskett was gone. "And I hope he doesn't ever come back," he added.

And Jim Haskett never did come back, nor did Walter ever set eyes on the man again. For quarrelling with the soldier and striking the captain of the regulars, Jim Haskett was dishonorably discharged from the navy, and sentenced to a year's imprisonment at hard labor. Thus, in a roundabout way, was the rascal made to suffer the punishment he so richly deserved.

CHAPTER XV

FROM CIENFUEGOS TO SANTIAGO BAY

From Key West the Flying Squadron set sail direct for Cienfuegos. The

Brooklyn

,

Massachusetts

,

Texas

, and

Scorpion

 left together, and were followed, twenty-four hours later, by the

Iowa

, mentioned in the previous chapter, and by the

Castine

 and the collier

Merrimac

.

Cienfuegos is a town of good size lying on a small bay on the south coast of Cuba, about midway between the eastern and western extremities. For several days the Navy Department had been watching, or trying to watch, the movements of the Spanish squadron, satisfied at last that it was somewhere in Cuban waters. One report had it that Admiral Cervera was at Cienfuegos, another that he was at Santiago de Cuba, many miles to the eastward. Commodore Schley was now sent out to bring the truth to light, were it possible to do so.

The rainy season, as it is termed, was at its height in this vicinity, and the showers came down nearly all day, striking the hot metal decks, and converting the water into something closely resembling steam. It was so muggy and uncomfortable that hardly any of the jackies could sleep, and more than one poor fellow was overcome and had to be carried to the sick bay for treatment.

"If that Spanish squadron has passed Santiago and Cienfuegos, and is crawling up around the western turn of Cuba, it won't be long before we see some hot work," observed Caleb, as he lounged at a porthole, devoid of any clothing but his shirt and trousers.

"Any kind of work would be hot," said Walter, laughingly. "Why, I think a fellow could cook eggs on deck."

"Puts me in mind of a voyage I took to South America," put in Si, who had just soused his head into a bucket of water, and was dripping from nose, ears, and chin in consequence. "We lay off the mouth of the Amazon for two days, waiting to get on a cargo of rubber. It was right under the equator, and the tar just poured out of all our seams. One afternoon I ran across the deck in my bare feet, for I was taking a swim, and as true as I live I blistered my feet."

"Oh, that's nothing," returned Caleb, dryly. "I was under the equator once, off the coast of Columbia in the bark

Sally D

. The captain let us go fishing in the jolly-boat. We caught about a dozen fish and threw 'em in the bottom as fast as they came in, and when we got back to the bark hang me if the first two fish we had brought up weren't baked as nice as you please, all fit for the captain's table." And Caleb turned away and began to whistle softly to himself, while Si continued his ablutions without another word. Among old sailors, "matching yarns" is a constant pastime, and the stories sometimes told would shame even a Baron Munchausen.

The watch on board of the warship was now more strict than ever, and the men slept at their guns, sometimes not seeing a hammock for several nights. Everybody, from the captain down to the apprentices, felt that a crisis could not be far off.

It must not be imagined that while Commodore Schley was skirting the southern coast of Cuba, the northern coast was neglected, for such was not the case. The blockade of Havana and vicinity still continued, and in addition Rear-Admiral Sampson took his own flagship, the

New York

, and several other warships, and sailed eastward, thinking to occupy the St. Nicholas Channel. Thus, if Admiral Cervera tried to gain the vicinity of Havana by the northern coast, he would be likely to fall in with Sampson; if he took the southern way, Schley would intercept his path. By keeping his ships in the St. Nicholas Channel Sampson remained ever ready to dash northward should the Spanish destroyers take a new course and show themselves along our own coast.

"We are coming in sight of land," cried Walter, toward nightfall, two days after leaving Key West. "I suppose this is some port on the southern coast of Cuba."

"It is Cienfuegos Bay," returned Caleb. "I just heard one of the officers say so. We're to lie at anchor until morning, and then perhaps the fun will commence."

At this announcement Walter's heart beat quickly, and it must be admitted that he did not sleep a wink that night for speculating on what the morrow might bring forth. In this particular, his thoughts were not far different from those of every one else on board.

Daybreak brought more rain, and the big warship rode on the long swells of the ocean grim and silent. Not far away lay the

Texas

, and several newcomers could be seen approaching from a distance. "This looks like business," observed Si to Walter, and the boy nodded.

Immediately after breakfast the signal was hoisted to clear ship for action, and once more the jackies rushed to their various places and got into fighting trim. Then the great engines of the

Brooklyn

 began to work, and they crept slowly toward the entrance to the harbor.

"If Cervera is there, he keeps himself pretty well hidden," remarked one of the officers, within hearing of Walter. "I don't see anything that looks like a warship."

Presently the flagship came to a halt, and the

Texas

 steamed past her and quite close to the harbor. Here the Spaniards had a small land battery, but it kept silent. The inner portion of the bay was hidden from view by a high spur of land.

What to do next was a problem. If the Spanish squadron was really there, it would be foolhardy to rush in and do battle while the enemy would have the support of the shore battery. Commodore Schley thought the matter over and, ever on the alert, decided to play a waiting game.

Sunday passed without anything unusual developing, and so did the day following. The strain on the men at the guns was great, for they were on duty constantly. Night and day the bosom of the outer bay was closely watched, for it was known that Cervera had with him one or two torpedo-boat destroyers, and these were dreaded more than anything else.

"Let one of those torpedo destroyers get near us, and we'll go up as quickly as did the

Maine

," said Caleb. "I'm not afraid of the dagos, but let me get out of the way of a torpedo boat every time." And this opinion was shared by all Walton's messmates.

"There's another boat coming up," announced Si, at six o'clock on Tuesday morning. "Walton, what do you make her out to be?"

"She's the

Marblehead

," was the old gunner's answer, after a long look at the craft. "And she's got despatches for the commodore," he added, as the signal went up and a small boat put off for the

Brooklyn

. Soon Commander McCalla of the

Marblehead

 came on board, and a long conference with Commodore Schley resulted, after which the newly arrived officer departed for his own warship with all possible speed. McCalla's mission was to communicate with the Cuban insurgents who were encamped near Cienfuegos, with a view to ascertaining if Admiral Cervera's ships were really in the harbor.

The morning passed quietly, and by noon the

Marblehead

 and her commander returned. The Cuban spies had made an investigation, and not a single ship of war belonging to Spain had been found, outside of a little harbor vessel of small moment.

It was now thought that if Admiral Cervera was not at Cienfuegos he must either be on his way hither or at Santiago. Accordingly, toward evening, the squadron received orders to sail for Santiago.

"We're off for Santiago Bay," said Caleb. "And if we don't find the dagos there, I'll give up where they are. Perhaps they have gone back to Spain." He continually alluded to the Spaniards as dagos, – a term which became quite common among soldiers and sailors during the war, although many referred to the enemy as the Dons.

It had cleared off, and the sun shone down fiercely on the deck and elsewhere. Inside of the steel turrets the air was stifling, and no one could remain at his post over a couple of hours. From below, the engineers, firemen, and coal-heavers came up constantly for a whiff of fresh air.

"We're badly enough off," remarked Walter. "But look at those poor chaps. Why, some of the firemen look re