“For instance, I want to know if ‘Burnt-face’ has any connection with the yellow boys who went through our pockets.”
“I think that at least half likely,” replied Ensign Hale gravely.
“And then, next, I want to know,” Darrin went on, “if there is any connection between ‘Burnt-face’ and Pembroke.”
“That is much less likely,” answered Hale.
“Last of all, if Pembroke is in the least shady, I’d like to know something definite about him,” wound up Ensign Dave.
“Go to the Frenchman for that,” advised Hale.
“Thank you; I believe I shall.”
“But what does it matter, Darrin,” asked Lieutenant Warden, “whether Pembroke is all right, or not? You turned him aside from visiting this craft, so what does it matter whether the fellow is a gentleman or the reverse?”
“Because,” replied Dave Darrin, so solemnly that some of his brother officers stared, “I have a premonition that I’m going to meet Pembroke again, and under conditions where I shall be glad to know something definite about the fellow.”
At eight bells in the evening Ensign Dalzell went on duty as officer of the deck. Darrin, aroused in season from a nap, took over the watch at midnight.
“Any orders?” asked Darrin of his chum.
“None, save the usual orders for the safety and security of the ship,” Dalzell replied. Salutes were exchanged, and the former officer of the deck hurried to his quarters.
A marine sentry paced aft, another forward. Six sailormen, including two petty officers, occupied their posts about the deck and on the bridge. Two or three of the engine-room crew were on watch below. The others on board slept, for the night was clear and the gunboat at anchorage half a mile out from the mouth of the Pasig River.
After the first tour of inspection to see that all was snug, Ensign Darrin leaned against the quarter rail, looking out over the water. By this time the sky had clouded somewhat, though the barometer remained stationary, showing that no atmospheric disturbances were to be looked for at present.
The night was so still that nothing but the discipline of trained habit prevented Ensign Darrin from nodding, then falling asleep.
Even as it was, his eyelids drooped almost to the closing point as he leaned there over the rail. But he was not asleep.
After some minutes Dave opened his eyes wider, straightened up and glanced out sharply over the water, on which objects were not now so clearly visible as they had been at midnight.
“That sounded like a paddle,” Darrin told himself, then added, in a low voice:
“Sentry!”
“Aye, aye, sir,” replied the marine, in a low voice, at the same time giving the rifle salute.
“I thought I heard a boat approaching yonder. Keep your eye open for any kind of craft coming near.”
“Aye, aye, sir!”
It was Ensign Darrin who discovered a small, outrigger canoe stealing forward in the night. Two seconds later the marine also reported it. Calling the nearest sailor to him, Dave gave him brief, whispered instructions which sent the young man slipping noiselessly forward.
“Shall I hail that craft, sir?” whispered the sentry, standing stiffly beside the young officer.
“Not yet,” Dave rejoined. Both stood there, watching keenly. Few landsmen, on such a night, would have been able to make out so small a craft at such a distance. Those who follow the sea are trained to cat-like vision.
“Sentry,” whispered Dave, “do you make out a second craft, following the first?”
“Just barely sir,” replied the sentry, after a sharp look.
Unless the two small craft changed their courses speedily Darrin knew that he would have to hail them and warn them off. In these piping times of peace in the Philippines, there was nothing very suspicious in two boats coming close to a war vessel at anchor. Still, the two canoes could not be permitted to come up alongside without the occupants first giving an account of themselves.
“It looks like a race,” Dave told himself, as he continued to watch intently. “Jove, I am tempted to believe that the second canoe is trying to overtake the leader. What can it – ”
In the act of bawling an order forward, Ensign Dave Darrin felt his tongue hit the roof of his mouth. For, at this instant, the pursuing canoe ranged up alongside the first.
There was a dim flash of something, accompanied by a yell of unearthly terror.
“Light!” shouted Dave Darrin huskily.
“Aye, aye, sir.”
In a twinkling, the narrow, dazzling beam of one of the forward searchlights shot over the water.
Within three seconds it had picked up the smaller of the canoes. To the watchers from the deck of the gunboat this canoe appeared to be empty.
Then the light shifted enough to pick up the second, larger canoe, now darting shoreward under the impetus of two powerful paddlers.
“Ahoy, there, shorebound boat!” yelled Ensign Darrin lustily. “Lay to and give an account of yourselves!”
The challenged canoe moved on so rapidly as to call for the constant shifting of the searchlight’s beam.
“Lay to, there, or we fire!” bellowed Ensign Darrin over the rippling waters of Manila Bay.
But the canoe made no sign of halting.
“Sentry!”
“Aye, aye, sir.”
“Take aim and hold it!”
“Aye, aye, sir.”
Then again Dave challenged.
“Shorebound boat, third challenge! Lay to, instantly!”
No attention being paid by the two paddlers, Ensign Darrin now gave the sharp order:
“Fire!”
That bullet must have whistled uncomfortably close to the fleeing craft, for on the instant both paddlers rose in the canoe.
“Fire!” commanded Ensign Dave, the second time.
At the sound of the marine’s shot both poised figures sprang overboard from the canoe.
“Shall I fire again, sir?” asked the marine, as the beam of the searchlight continued to play upon the waters where the divers had vanished.
“Not unless you see those men that jumped overboard from that canoe,” replied Ensign Darrin.
Though the searchlight continued to flash further across the water, nothing was seen of the men from the canoe. Indeed, at the distance, the rippling waves might easily conceal a swimmer.
“Pass the word for the boatswain’s mate!” Darrin ordered.
As that petty officer appeared, Darrin ordered him to turn out a boat crew and put one of the boats over the side.
“First investigate the nearer canoe, then the second. Bring them both in alongside. If you see any swimmers in the water, pursue and pick them up.”
“Aye, aye, sir.”
Still the searchlight continued to play over the waters. The “Castoga’s” small boat ranged alongside the smaller outrigger canoe, and soon had it in tow with a line astern. A minute or two after the second canoe was picked up. A short search was made for swimmers, after which, on signal, the boatswain’s mate turned and headed for the gunboat.
“Ship’s boat ahoy!” Dave called, as the boat and its tows came near.
“Ahoy the deck, sir!”
“Are both canoes empty?” Darrin inquired.
“The