University of Virginia Library

I

"STAND BY!"

Shackles had come down from the bridge of the Adolphus and flung this command at three fellow-correspondents, who, in the galley, were busy with pencils trying to write something exciting and interesting from four days' quiet cruising. They looked up casually. "What for?" They did not intend to arouse for nothing. Ever since Shackles had heard the men of the navy directing each other to stand by for this thing and that thing, he had used the two words as his pet phrase and was continually telling his friends to stand by. Sometimes its portentous and emphatic reiteration became highly exasperating, and men were apt to retort sharply. "Well, I am standing by, ain't I?" On this occasion they detected that he was serious. "Well, what for?" they repeated. In his answer Shackles was reproachful as well as impressive. "Stand by? Stand by for a Spanish gunboat!—a Spanish gunboat in chase! Stand by for two Spanish gunboats—both of them in chase!"

The others looked at him for a brief space, and were almost certain that they saw truth written upon his countenance. Whereupon they tumbled out of the galley and galloped up to the bridge. The cook, with a mere inkling of tragedy, was now out on the lower deck bawling, "What's the matter? What's the matter? What's the matter?" Aft, the grimy head of a stoker was thrust suddenly up through the deck, so to speak. The eyes flashed in a quick look astern, and then the head vanished. The correspondents were scrambling on the bridge. "Where's my opry glasses? Here— let me take a look. Are they Spaniards, Captain? Are you sure?"

The skipper of the Adolphus was at the wheel. The pilot-house was so arranged that he could not see astern without hanging forth from one of the side windows, but apparently he had made early investigation. He did not reply at once. At sea he never replied at once to questions. At the very first Shackles had discovered the merits of this deliberate manner, and had taken delight in it. He invariably detailed his talk with the captain to the other correspondents. "Look here. I've just been to see the skipper. I said, 'I would like to put into Cape Haytien.' Then he took a little think. Finally he said, 'All right.' Then I said, 'I suppose we'll need to take on more coal there?' He took another little think. Finally he said, 'Yes.' I said, 'Ever ran into that port before?' He took another little think. Finally he said, 'Yes.' I said, 'Have a cigar?' He took another little think. See? There's where I fooled 'im."

While the correspondents spun the hurried questions at him, the captain of the Adolphus stood with his brown hands on the wheel and his cold glance aligned straight over the bow of his ship.

"Are they Spanish gunboats, Captain? Are they, Captain?"

After a profound pause, he said: "Yes." The four correspondents hastily and in perfect time presented their backs to him and fastened their gaze on the pursuing foe. They saw a dull, gray curve of sea going to the feet of the high green and blue coast-line of northeastern Cuba, and on this sea were two miniature ships, with clouds of iron-colored smoke pouring from their funnels.

One of the correspondents strode elaborately to the pilot-house. "Aw—Captain," he drawled, "do you think they can catch us?"

The captain's glance was still aligned over the bow of his ship. Ultimately he answered, "I don't know."

From the top of the little Adolphus's stack thick, dark smoke swept level for a few yards, and then went rolling to leeward in great, hot, obscuring clouds. From time to time the grimy head was thrust through the lower deck, the eyes took the quick look astern, and then the head vanished. The cook was trying to get somebody to listen to him. "Well, you know, my sons, it won't be no fun to be ketched by them Spaniards. By George, it won't. Look here, what do you think they'll do to us, hey? Say, I don't like this, you know. I'm jiggered if I do." The sea, cut by the hurried bow of the Adolphus, flung its waters astern in the formation of a wide angle, and the lines of the angle ruffled and hissed as they fled, while the thumping screw tormented the water at the stern. The frame of the steamer underwent regular convulsions as in the strenuous sobbing of a child.

The mate was standing near the pilot-house. Without looking at him, the captain spoke his name: "Ed!"

"Yes, sir," cried the mate with alacrity.

The captain reflected for a moment. Then he said, "Are they gainin' on us?"

The mate took another anxious survey of the race. "No—o— yes, I think they are—a little."

After a pause the captain said: "Tell the chief to hook her up more."

The mate, glad of an occupation in these tense minutes, flew down to the engine-room door. "Skipper says hook 'er up more!" he bawled.

The head of the chief engineer appeared—a grizzly head, now wet with oil and sweat. "What?" he shouted angrily. It was as if he had been propelling the ship with his own arms. Now he was told that his best was not good enough. "What? Hook 'er up more? Why, she can't carry another pound, I tell you! Not another ounce! We—" Suddenly he ran forward and climbed to the bridge. "Captain," he cried in the loud, harsh voice of one who lived usually amid the thunder of machinery, "she can't do it, sir! By Gawd, she can't! She's turning over now faster than she ever did in her life, and we'll all blow to hell—"

The low-toned, impassive voice of the captain suddenly checked the chief's clamor. "I'll blow her up," he said, "but I won't get ketched if I can help it." Even then the listening correspondents found a second in which to marvel that the captain had actually explained his point of view to another human being.

The engineer stood blank. Then suddenly he cried, "All right, sir!" He threw a hurried look of despair at the correspondents, the deck of the Adolphus, the pursuing enemy, Cuba, to the sky, and the sea; he vanished in the direction of his post.

A correspondent was suddenly regifted with the power of prolonged speech. "Well, you see, the game is up, tight. See! We can't get out of it. The skipper will blow up the whole bunch before he'll let his ship be taken, and the Spaniards are gaining. Well, that's what comes from going to war in an eight-knot tub." He bitterly accused himself, the others, and the dark, sightless, indifferent world.

This certainty of coming evil affected each one differently. One was made garrulous; one kept absent-mindedly snapping his fingers and gazing at the sea; another stepped nervously to and fro, looking everywhere as if for employment for his mind. As for Shackles, he was silent and smiling; but it was a new smile that caused the lines about his mouth to

betray quivering weakness. And each man looked at the others to discover their degree of fear, and did his best to conceal his own, holding his crackling nerves with all his strength.

As the Adolphus rushed on, the sun suddenly emerged from behind gray clouds, and its rays dealt Titanic blows, so that in a few minutes the sea was a glowing blue plain, with the golden shine dancing at the tips of the waves. The coast of Cuba glowed with light. The pursuers displayed detail after detail in the new atmosphere. The voice of the cook was heard in high vexation. "Am I to git dinner as usual? How do I know? Nobody tells me what to do! Am I to git dinner as usual?"

The mate answered ferociously: "Of course you are! What do you s'pose? Ain't you the cook, you condemned ijit?"

The cook retorted in a mutinous scream: "Well, how would I know? If this ship is goin' to blow up—"