Under MacArthur in Luzon/Chapter 8
CHAPTER VIII
WALTER AND SI DORING
"Walter!"
"What is it, Si?"
"Answer me a conundrum."
"All right, fire away, but don't make it too hard, for this heat has made my brain lazy."
"When is this tub going to reach Manila?"
"I thought you would ask that question, Si Doring. How do I know? Go ask the quartermaster, or the deck officer, or the cook. They know more about it than I do." Walter Russell arose from the deck and stretched himself. "Joking aside, though, it is an awfully long-winded trip, isn't it?"
"Long?" returned Si Doring, a thin-nosed, bright-eyed young Yankee sailor. "I tell you, Walter, that don't half express it. It's wuss nor long, ten times over. To me it's about a year since we sailed from Honolulu, and five years since we left San Francisco. If we don't hurry up, by the time we reach the Philippines the war will be over, the back taps sounded, and everybody will have forgotten there was any fighting."
"Don't worry, Si; we'll see enough of it, I reckon. We think this trip long because the transport Central isn't the armored cruiser Brooklyn, that's all."
"I don't see any sign of land yet."
"If all goes right, they expect to sight land day after to-morrow," put in a soldier standing near. "I heard the captain telling one of the lieutenants so.
"Did he say where we were?"
"Somewhere off the north coast of Luzon."
"If that's the case, we must be near where my brother Larry was once wrecked," said Walter Russell, with a sudden show of interest. "You remember, Si, I told you about it, and how he was picked up by Commodore Dewey."
"Yes, I remember. But I can tell you, I don't want to be wrecked." And the Yankee boy shook his head vigorously. "From what I have heard, the people living in the northern part of Luzon are reg'lar savages—used to be head-hunters, so an old soldier told me."
"I am anxious to learn how the war is progressing and how Larry and Ben are making out. It seems an age since I last set eyes on them."
"Your brother must be doing well, or they wouldn't have made him a captain. I wonder what ship they'll assign us to when we get to Manila Bay? I'd just as lief go on a gunboat, for they seem to be doing more lately than the big ships. They can get closer to the coast and go up the rivers."
"We'll have to go where we are sent, so far as that is concerned," Walter Russell answered. "But I should like to get on a gunboat, too," he added.
The day was an extremely hot one in the early part of June, and the Central, a large transport of the old-fashioned type, rolled and pitched lazily as she proceeded on her mission of transporting Uncle Sam's soldiers and sailors from San Francisco to Manila. She had on board a regiment of infantry from a northwestern state, a troop of regular cavalry, and about two hundred sailors, some newly enlisted men, and others transferred from the Atlantic Squadron, all bound for the seat of the Filipino rebellion.
Among the sailors transferred from the Atlantic Squadron to Manila Bay were Walter Russell and his old Yankee chum, Si Doring. As Walter had written to Ben and Larry, he could not stand it to remain idle while so much that was stirring was going on in the Philippines, and he had applied several times for a transfer, the last time with success, through the aid of his firm friend, Caleb Walton, the gunner.
The Central, a double-decked tramp steamer, formerly in the Australian trade, had left San Francisco about seven weeks before. The weather had been all that could be hoped for, and the run to Honolulu of the Hawaiian Islands had taken place quickly and without special incident. At Honolulu Walter had had a brief run ashore, and, in company with Si, had taken a stage trip to the Pali, that wonderful precipice overlooking the Pacific, where Larry was first introduced to my readers, in "Under Dewey at Manila." At the Pali, Walter met the inn-keeper, Ralph Harmon, who was much pleased to hear from Larry again, and equally pleased to learn that the young sailor was doing so well.
From Honolulu the run had been straight for the Ladrones, with a brief stop at the little island of Guam, now another of Uncle Sam's new possessions. Here some fresh water was taken on board, and a few extra soldiers set down, and then the Central sailed for Manila.
But now the rainy season was on, and this meant frequent storms on the ocean, and the progress of the transport was much delayed. When it did not rain, the air was suffocating, and more than one case of tropical fever broke out on board. Once it looked as if Si would be taken down, and Walter was very much worried. But the constitution of the Yankee lad was a strong one, and he soon threw off the malady.
"But it was a close shave fer yours truly," said Si, when he was around once more. "Don't want another sech, not me!"
"I guess we'll have to be careful of what we eat and drink when we get to the Philippines," said Walter. "Ben wrote to me that he had to be very careful. He said one of the men in his company almost died from eating half-green plantains."
"I never could go half-green stuff, Walter. But there ought to be lots of good things to eat here—if it's like Cuba, and I reckon it is."
"Well, we'll know about that when we get ashore. Oh, how I would like a good run on land!"
The days passed so slowly that soldiers and sailors devised all sorts of amusements with which to while away the hours. They got up walking and running matches, high jumping, and dancing contests, and played quoits, cards, checkers, and a hundred and one other games. At times both soldiers and sailors had drills and rifle practice, similar to those described in "Under Otis in the Philippines." At the stern somebody was always fishing, although catches were by no means frequent, for the reason that the Central moved too swiftly for the sluggish aquatic creatures of the tropics.
"Do you know, I'd like to catch a shark," remarked Si, one day. He was one of the steady fishermen, but so far had caught nothing worth mentioning.
"You don't want much," laughed Walter. "Why don't you try for a whale and be done with it?"
Si had an extra heavy line, procured from a sailor belonging to the transport, and on the day following this talk he baited up with the best piece of bloody meat he could procure,—a piece taken from a sheep which had just been slaughtered for the officers' table,—and went fishing again, this time at the stern of the lower deck, at a point where there was a slight rise near the rail. It was a cloudy day, and as he had had no luck on clear days, the Yankee lad thought that this might prove better.
Walter had procured a book—one of Captain Marryat's novels—from the ship's library, and sitting close at hand, he was soon deeply absorbed in the story, which was one of life in the British navy. Si fished on in silence for nearly half an hour, then heaved a long sigh.
"Don't believe there's anything in this here ocean," he declared. "Ain't got so much as a nibble!" And he drew down his thin face in disgust.
"Don't get discouraged, Si," returned Walter, looking up for the moment. "Remember the old saying, 'Everything comes to him who waits.'"
"That may be true, but I ain't goin' to die waitin' for no blamed shrimp to tie fast to my line and eat up that bait. I'd rather give the meat to the ship's dog."
Nevertheless, Si prepared to throw out again, after seeing that the bait was still intact and fixed as he wished it. But his cast was bad, and his line caught on the under planking of the transport's side. In order to loosen the line he had to lean far over the rail until he was almost on the point of losing his balance.
"Be careful, Si—" began Walter on glancing up, when of a sudden something occurred which filled him with dismay. A fin flashed in the water, the bait was swallowed, and the line straightened out with a jerk. The inner end of the line was around Si's hand, and in an instant the Yankee lad spun overboard and disappeared beneath the bosom of the ocean!
"Help!" cried Walter, leaping up. "Man overboard! Help!"
"What's that?" cried an officer standing near, and then as he took in the situation he called to another officer to stop the transport, which was done as speedily as possible.
Although startled, Walter kept his wits about him and looked around for a life-preserver. None was near at hand, and he had to run along the deck for a distance of twenty-five feet in order to obtain one. With this in hand, he sped back to the rear rail, hoping to see his chum on the top of the water once again.
But to his horror, Si was nowhere to be seen. In vain he strained his eyes; the Yankee lad was gone—swallowed up in the foaming wake of the transport, which had now come to a standstill.
"I don't see him!" gasped the young sailor. "Do you?"
"I do not," answered the officer. "Did he get a bite?"
"I believe he did."
"Then maybe the fish has taken the bait and him too. Some of the fish out here are regular man-eaters."
By this time the captain of the transport was at hand, along with a crowd who had heard the commotion, and an order was given to lower one of the small boats.
"Can I go in the boat, captain?" asked Walter. "He was my chum."
The captain looked into Walter's pleading face.
"All right; jump in and be quick about it. Like enough the poor chap has run afoul of a shark."
"But the shark didn't come up to the surface."
"Humph! Well, it might have been something else. Come," and in a moment more Walter was in a jollyboat, along with five others, four with oars, who rowed with might and main for the spot where Si had gone down.
"See anything?" asked the youth, after the sailors had been rowing for several minutes.
"Not a thing," replied the officer, who stood up in the bow of the boat.
"But he must be somewhere about," was the half-desperate return. And then Walter added quickly, "What is that, over to the left?"
"It's the young fellow!" cried the officer.
"Help! help!" came faintly from Si.
"We're coming! Keep up!" shouted back Walter.
"Help! I can't keep up!" was the gasping return, and then Si went under again as quickly as he had appeared.
"I know what's the matter," ejaculated the officer in charge of the boat. "He's fast to that line, and his game is dragging him around." And in this surmise he was correct. Poor Si was practically a prisoner, and it looked as if he would be drowned before aid could reach him.