The Marines Have Landed Read online

  CHAPTER VIII

  AN ADVENTURE ASHORE

  Saturday afternoon! Under the azure dome of the tropic sky the verduredhills of "Treasure Island" sparkled with emerald brilliancy. Stretchesof glittering-white, sandy beaches connected abrupt, green-cladheadlands in the semblance of Nature's own rosary. Coral reefseverywhere, with varying depths of water over their treacherous beauty,afforded so many wonderful shades of blue and green that the cleverestartist would despair of reproducing their tantalizing colors on hiscanvas.

  In the deep but sheltered waters of Target Bay, close anchored to thebeach, swung the _Denver_, her graceful outlines reflected withstartling perfection in the mirror-like depths. Under her white spreadawnings, members of the crew dozed, conversed or played games as theirfancy dictated. On the bridge, the ever alert Quartermaster attendedthe duties of his watch; while pacing the quarter-deck, the CommandingOfficer of the ship, Commander Bentley, and his Executive Officer,Lieutenant-Commander Ogden, were earnestly conversing. Near by, theOfficer of the Deck, with a telescope, the insignia of his office,tucked beneath his arm, was trying to catch the drift of his superiors'conversation without appearing to be too inquisitive.

  "It is apparent, Mr. Ogden, that someone ashore is furnishing liquor toour men. The reports at the mast[#] for the last few days show itclearly. In spite of all the 'Alcalde' at Dewey may say, the men aregetting the stuff somewhere."

  [#] The "mast"--A fixed place on deck, often not near a real mast, wherecomplaints against the conduct of enlisted men are heard by an officer,and judgment passed on them.

  "I agree with you, Captain, and I wish we could get a clue sufficient toconvict the guilty party. By your order the men are not allowed in thetowns of Dewey or Roosevelt, and every day that liberty parties areashore I have had patrols along the trails to stop men going in thatdirection. Furthermore, we maintain a patrol in town, each ship taking aturn at it, to arrest any of the men seen inside the restricteddistrict. The revenue officer on the island has assured me that not astore or shack this end of the place has a license to sell alcohol."

  "It beats the Dutch," remarked Captain Bentley, after a short silence,"how enlisted men will go out of their way to get into trouble. A lotof youngsters think it smart to be tough and rough, imagining they arethen real sailors. They haven't the brains to see that the navy man isrevolutionizing his habits and trying to live down the idea of him whichyears ago was so prevalent. The desire to 'spend their money like adrunken sailor' still holds an attraction for some of these brainlessidiots. Our older men have been through the mill, and the worst elementamong them is weeded out. They have sense enough to keep out of harm'sway, but---- Oh, well, the fact still remains, they are getting liquor,and bringing it on board too."

  "I have had a talk with the officers and they in turn with theirC.P.O.'s, and also I have put Sergeant Douglass on the trail, so I hopeof getting some results soon."

  "Keep at it, Mr. Ogden, and for the sake of all hands I hope we can runthe parties to earth; nothing is worse for the discipline of a ship,"and with that parting remark Commander Bentley turned and descended tohis cabin.

  For over a month the cruiser had been in and around the waters ofCulebra Island, generally anchoring for the night in Target Bay, butduring the day, excepting Saturdays and Sundays, joining with threeother ships of her class in division drills and maneuvers while at thesame time preparing for target practise.

  The _Denver's_ marines, having only two six-pounders in their charge,did not take as great an interest in the gunnery work as marinesgenerally do on board the battleships and dreadnaughts, where they haveguns assigned them of larger calibre. During this time they were mostlyoccupied with work pertaining to their profession on board, or with boatdrills, and hikes on shore. For this latter drill they were landedtwice a week and worked in cooeperation with the detachments from theother vessels. Later on when the Fleet arrived combined maneuversashore on a grand scale would be carried on.

  Liberty was granted, to those whose duties did not intrude, on Saturdayand Sunday afternoons. On this particular Saturday, Drummer Comstock andTrumpeter Cabell went ashore in the first liberty boat to leave theship. Dick, already having made a name for himself as an oarsman, was amember of the marines' dinghy racing crew, and this afternoon he andHenry helped pull the big cutter ashore and well up on the coral beachin Firewood Bay.

  From this spot it was about a two-mile walk over the hills, down intothe valley past Laguna de Flamingo to the perfect, crescent-shaped,smooth, level sands of Flamingo Bay, where the mighty rollers swept inwith unrestricted grandeur from the blue Atlantic, stretching northwardfarther than the eye could reach. Here, in spite of the wonderfullyhigh surf there was little or no undertow and the bathing was consideredsafe, and free from venturesome sharks.

  According to their habit, the two boys undressed at Firewood Bay andleaving their clothes in the cutter, wearing only rubber-soled sneakersand bathing trunks, they were soon dog-trotting over the narrow trailleading to a group of shacks on the saddle of the ridge they had tocross. With their swifter pace they soon passed the others of theparty. After breasting the summit of the ridge they followed thetorturous downward trail to the Lake of the Flamingos. The trail ledpast an unused hut half-way down the hillside, at one end of which itabruptly turned to the left.

  Dick, well in the lead, having turned the corner of the hut, saw a mandashing towards him, mounted on a fiery little West Indian pony. Therewas plenty of room for the rider to turn aside so as to avoid the boy,while ordinary politeness would have led him to do so, therefore Dickcontinued at his slow trot in the center of the path. Nearer came therider, and the boy now saw he was reeling in his saddle and lashing hishorse viciously as he came tearing up the hill. Still the boy did notchange his course. The next moment the pony had of its own volitionjumped out of the trail to avoid collision.

  At the moment he passed the native rider cut Dick a fearful lash acrossthe shoulders with his leather quirt, yelling loudly some vile expletivein Spanish. For the fraction of a second Dick did not comprehend whathad happened. The blow across his bare back nearly brought him to hisknees and, missing his footing, he fell headlong. In an instant he wasup again holding a rough, jagged piece of rotten-rock in either hand andrunning back after the reckless horseman.

  Never before in his life had Dick been thoroughly angry--never beforehad he felt that insane rage within him that knew no other impulse thanthe desire to inflict bodily harm on another human being.

  The horseman must have disappeared behind the deserted shack, for he wasnowhere in sight. By this time Henry came swinging along the trail, andhe was surprised to see his chum coming towards him like a ravingmaniac.

  "Did you see him?" yelled Dick furiously.

  "See whom?" questioned Henry.

  "That black drunken scoundrel on horseback."

  "What are you talking about, Dick? I've seen no horseman."

  "Didn't a native just pass you on the trail, riding a pony like mad andlashing the poor brute with a rawhide quirt?"

  "Nope,--I reckon you must have been seeing things, Dick," and Henrystarted to laugh.

  "'Seeing things,' nothing! Look at that red welt across my back, if youthink I've been 'seeing things'!" shouted Dick, and he turned whileHenry examined with amazement the angry looking ridge across the broad,sun-browned shoulders.

  "I see it, right enough, Dick, but--you say a man on horseback did it?"

  "Yes, and if he didn't pass you on the trail then he turned by this hutand went off into the bush, and I'm going to get him and thrash himbefore this day is over," said Dick, and having delivered his outbursthe rushed off towards the clump of bushes, tall grass and cabbage palms,clustering close to the far corner of the hut.

  "Hold on, Dick," called Henry, "we can't get through that jungle withoutour clothes. You stay here on watch while I go back and fetch them. Therest of the liberty party will be along an
y time now and they will lendus a hand."

  "I don't need any help to thrash that cowardly Spig,"[#] muttered Dick,but seeing the wisdom of Henry's suggestion he consented to wait.

  [#] "Spig" or "Spiggoty"--A generic term for all inhabitants ofLatin-American countries and of the Philippines and Guam, given bysailors, soldiers and marines only since the Spanish War of 1898.

  Left to his own devices, he began a systematic scouting of the ground inthe vicinity. The trail, baked hard by the sun, showed no signs, butacross the ground in front of the palm-thatched hut he found distincttraces of recent hoof prints. Following them he came to a newly brokentrail through the long grass leading to the thicker undergrowth beyond.Returning to the hut he pushed open the dilapidated door and entered themusty interior. The place was bare of furniture or utensils, a few bitsof rubbish littered the floor and in one corner were several bottles andflasks, all empty. Picking up one and extracting the cork he found astrong smell of whisky. Evidently this was the rendezvous of those menfrom the ships recently found under the influence of liquor while onshore. Presently he heard the sound of footsteps coming down the trail.Probably members of the liberty party with whom he came ashore, thoughtDick.

  "Say, Joe," he heard a voice question, "where do you suppose that marinewas hot-footing it to?"

  "I dunno," answered the one addressed, "when he ducked past me he yelledsomething, but I didn't get it, did you?"

  "Nuh! Glad he's out of the way, 'cause him and the kid he runs withthink they are some class. They'd put a crimp in our game if they gotnext to it."

  "Any of the others in sight?" Joe now asked as the two stopped besidethe corner of the shack.

  "No; get a hustle on," and with that Dick heard the two speakers runpast the front of his refuge and dash into the woods near the spot hehad just been investigating.

  "The plot thickens!" mused Dick, looking at the empty bottle he stillheld.

  Again the sound of footsteps, but this time the men passed the shackwithout stopping. These men were bound for the beach at Flamingo Bay.

  At first the boy thought of calling them back, but on secondconsideration he decided not to. He preferred working out this affairwith only Henry's assistance.

  That very morning First Sergeant Douglass had given the marines a talkabout the liquor traffic and asked them to try and trace it. He hadsaid it would be a feather in their caps could they succeed in findingthe guilty parties. For that reason, all the more honor if he and Henrycarried it through by themselves.

  It seemed an interminable while before the soft patter apprised him ofhis companion's return. As Henry reached the corner of the hut, Dick'swarning hiss attracted his attention to the open door.

  "Come in here, Hank," he called, and Henry entered, breathing hard fromthe grind of his strenuous race up-hill.

  While he dressed, Dick explained more fully about the drunken native andof what had transpired during Henry's absence. The young trumpeter wasequally enthusiastic over the prospect of an exciting adventure ahead ofthem and thoroughly agreed they alone could manage the business.

  "I reckon we are on the right track for sure," said Henry, strugglinginto his O.D. shirt. "That fellow Joe Choiniski is one of the toughnuts who joined us from San Juan in the last draft right after we camehere. He's been on some 'spit-kit'[#] stationed down in these watersfor a long time and speaks the native lingo. The man with him is a badegg too, though he has never been caught so far."

  [#] "Spit-kit"--Really "spit-kid," a small wooden cask set about thedeck for spit-boxes. Spitting upon decks is an unpardonable sin. Thename is slangily applied to the smaller vessels of the Navy.

  "What is his name?" asked Richard, preparing to open the door.

  "Never did hear his right name; the men on board call him 'Slugger.'"

  "I know now," said Dick, "they say he used to be a prize-fighter andhe's all the time bragging how he can mix it up with the gloves, but noone ever saw him put them on since he came on board. He's husky enough,but all out of training."

  "That's the fellow,--a tough customer, I reckon."

  The boys, finding the coast clear, emerged from the hut and were soonfollowing the trail which the two men and horseman before them hadpresumably travelled. For a while the way led through a veritabletangle of briers, weeds, bamboo and underbrush, but after a quarter of amile with no break on either side the path joined into a wider and wellworn trail through a piece of timberland leading almost due north andsouth. In the shade of the tall hardwood trees the ground was softerand the spoor of the horse was distinctly shown turning to the right.This fortunate discovery saved the boys any possibility of going wrong.

  The island at this point was sparsely settled, as in 1906 the NavyDepartment had required all squatters to move off the governmentreservations. The trail was now nearing the boundaries of the northerntract. For another quarter of a mile they went on, each moment hopingto discover some evidence to substantiate their deductions, but thesilence of the wilderness was about them, only broken occasionally bythe cooing of the blue doves high up in the tree-tops.

  Here and there the woods gave place to clearings covered with wavinggrass or untended banana patches, affording long vistas of land andwater but not a house nor animal nor human being rewarded their sharpsearching. To their left was South West Cay, separated from the largerisland they were on by a narrow dangerous channel. To their right theycaught occasional glimpses of Flamingo Bay or the distant top of MountResaca.

  During one of their halts before emerging into plain view on thehog-back trail, Henry caught Dick by the shoulder and pulled him down inthe shelter of the long grass which carpeted a steep slope on theirleft, down to the very edge of the water.

  "Look, there is your horseman!" he whispered excitedly, forgetting hisvoice would not reach half the distance to the object at which he waspointing.

  LOOK, THERE IS YOUR HORSEMAN!]

  "I see him," said Dick grimly, "coming up from that shack at the foot ofthe hill."

  "Yes, and see those two sailors going down to the beach; they're totingsacks or something over their shoulders. They can go around to FirewoodBay that way. We've got 'em, all right," exclaimed Henry joyfully."What do you reckon we'd better do now?"

  "I 'reckon' there's going to be one native of this 'Treasure Island'who's going to get the beating of his life in just about five minutes,"answered Dick, taking an extra tug to his belt. "That fellow is comingright up the hill to this trail, and I'm going to be right at the top towelcome him. Come along, Hank, but lie low and leave him to me."

  Stooping low, both lads ran across the open space till they came to theedge of the farther wood, where they found an entrance to the trail upwhich the lone horseman could be seen spurring and lashing his worn-outsteed. The animal was too far gone to respond to the cruel treatment,and plodded slowly and wearily upward.

  "Hank, you go to the other side in case he should happen to turn thatway," directed Dick. "That brute won't escape us; and let me tell yousomething, I'm not going to beat him up for lashing me, alone, I'm goingto try and even up some of the debt for that poor dumb animal he'storturing."

  Henry scuttled to the north side of the trail, while Dick waitedimpatiently where he first had hidden.

  The labored breathing of the horse came to his ears, and then, precededby a volley of oaths, rider and horse reached the ridge trail. Thenative, a dark, swarthy, pock-marked man, about thirty-five years ofage, with black, bloodshot eyes and long, yellow teeth, was broadshouldered, and though slender, was well knit. On reaching the crest ofthe hill the horse's head was turned southward and again the riderraised the heavy quirt to bring it down on the bleeding, swollen flanks.That blow never fell, for with the quick spring of a tiger Dick grabbedthe rider around the waist and tore him from the saddle, throwing him tothe ground. At the same time he snatched the quirt from the surprisedman's hand and began belaboring him as he groveled at the boy's feet.The startled horse meanwhile had turned down the slope
and was stumblingtowards the foot of the hill.

  "How do you like that, you yellow cur?" questioned Dick coolly, givingthe coward a final blow across the legs. "Do you think you want to tryany more tricks on me?"

  "No! No! Senor! Pardon, Senor! Por Dios, no mas!" cried the man ashe saw Dick's arm rise again and the lash snap ominously.

  "Get up and vamoose," ordered Dick, pointing along the trail they hadfollowed. "Never mind your horse; you can get him when I get throughwith you."

  Never taking his eyes from the man, Dick made him march in front ofthem. The native limped along protestingly, but every time he stoppedto argue Dick applied the lash with good effect.

  On reaching the trail leading down to Firewood Bay, Dick pointed towardsthe town of Dewey.

  "You savvy Dewey?" he inquired.

  "Si, Senor," came the surly response, and the shifty black eyes glaredfor a moment at the boy.

  "Well, beat it--pronto," ordered Dick, and with the words he gave theman a push in the right direction, while both boys, as if performing amilitary drill, simultaneously aided him with a persuading kick.

  "Just to help you along a bit," called Henry and then he turned to Dick."Shake, Dick; that was a job well and nobly done."

  As he spoke five bullets whistled past them, one dusting the ground attheir feet and ricochetting with a shrill "Z-z-z-i-i-n-n-g."

  Instantly the startled boys dropped to the grass beside the trail and,keeping under cover until a fold in the ground effectually protectedthem, they ran for the boat landing.

  "Wonder why he didn't use that shooting iron before?" questioned Dick,looking back over the trail.

  "Reckon he was too plumb scared to remember he owned a gun," said Henry,still beaming with joy over the adventure. "Do you believe he'll takeany more pot shots at us?"

  "No, we are out of pistol range down here, and he can't come down thehill without being seen. Those shots were too close for comfort to suitme, and yet I hated to have to run away as we did. Still it would havebeen worse than foolhardy to tempt Fortune by hanging around up therewith that rascal in hiding. How do you like being under fire?"

  "Can't say I've any hankering for it, but it didn't scare me as Ithought it would," said Henry.

  The men from Flamingo Bay were now coming over the brow of the hill andsoon reached the boat. They had not seen the native on the other side ofthe hill, but all had heard the five shots. The boys did not enlightenthem as to the cause, having decided to report the whole matter to FirstSergeant Douglass on their return to the _Denver_.

  While they were shoving the heavy cutter into the water the two men, JoeChoiniski and "Slugger" Williams, came from around the point and joinedthe group. Both men wore rubber boots, and Dick remembered that theyhad taken them ashore that afternoon under their arms, whereas now theycarried their shoes, from the tops of which were sticking some finelybranched pieces of unbleached coral. Dick also noticed how carefullythey got into the boat when all was ready to shove off for the ship.

  "Wonder where they hid their booze," said Henry, "for I'd bet a month'spay they have it somewhere."

  "I guess I know, and you watch Corporal Dorlan frisk them when they goup on deck," answered Dick with a knowing wink.

  Arriving at the port gangway, the liberty party went aboard and fell inon the quarter-deck for inspection before being dismissed. CorporalDorlan, standing at the top of the gangway, was surprised to hear Dickwhisper as he passed, "Search the rubber boots, Corporal," but he wasnot slow of comprehension, and as soon as the men were all in line hewent directly up to Joe and "Slugger" and feeling down their boot legsbrought forth several flat flasks carefully wrapped in dry seaweed.

  "What is this?" said Mr. Thorp, the Officer of the Deck.

  And Corporal Dorlan merely answered:

  "'Wilson--that's all,' sir."

  "That is fine work, Corporal. I congratulate you," said a hearty voicebehind the line of men who had witnessed this little scene, and turningDorlan found Commander Bentley standing near him.

  "It's not me what discovered it, sir. All the credit belongs to DrummerComstock. He's the lad what put me wise, sir."

  "We will hold 'mast' and investigate this matter at once, Mr. Thorp;have Comstock report here immediately."

  Dick, having heard his name called, approached.

  "Now, young man, tell me all you know of this business," ordered theCaptain, and having heard the entire story of the exciting afternoonashore he ordered Dick to go to the Executive Officer's office anddictate a full report to the Yeoman.

  "A man like the one you describe has no business to be at large," hesaid. "I will communicate with the authorities ashore and have himlocked up. In the meantime, Mr. Thorp, send a detail of marines ashoreunder arms to search and destroy the shack these two boys discovered.It's on the government reservation and has no business there. TrumpeterCabell will go ashore and act as guide."

  Then turning to the two culprits, Commander Bentley said:

  "I'll keep you men in close confinement until a court-martial candispose of your case. Have these two men taken to the brig[#] at once,Mr. Thorp."

  [#] Brig--Cell for confinement of men under punishment.

  "Aye, aye, sir!" and Ensign Thorp gave the Master-at-Arms the necessaryorders.