Uncle Sam's Boys in the Philippines; or, Following the Flag against the Moros
Page 14
CHAPTER XIV
THE CALL FOR MIDNIGHT COURAGE
At a few minutes past six it was dark, for the sun goes down early inthe tropics.
Now the soldiers were relieved from their cramped positions of the day.A few at a time they left the trenches, rising and walking about.
Inside the house their bacon was cooked for them and their coffee made.Mr. Seaforth, who was abundantly supplied with food, added a variety ofpalatable eatables to their night meal.
Lieutenant Prescott and Sergeant Hal Overton walked together around theline of defenses. The officer frequently used his night glass, now andthen passing it to the boyish sergeant.
"You see, Overton," said the lieutenant, "from all outward appearancesthere isn't a Moro left in the woods anywhere around here. Our goodjudgment tells us, however, now that night has come, that we shall dowell to be doubly alert."
"Do you think they will dare attack so large a force in a sudden rush,sir?"
"It is the only trick by which the rascals could hope to beat out anintrenched force of regulars, Overton. By a rush they could have takenthe house before we arrived, but I fancy that the first attack was madeonly as a bluff. They hoped to be able to scare Mr. Seaforth into payingthe blackmail their datto had demanded. Now that the troops are here,they realize that their bluff has been met, and that they've got tofight or quit. I believe that the chances are about even on fight orquit. I'd like to hurry up their quitting by a charge, but it might costus some men, and my orders go only as far as defending the plantationand the white people here. Sergeant, I have about decided to send areport to Captain Cortland. I believe it would be safer to send one ortwo soldiers, if they're the right kind of men, than to send adetachment. A detachment would be almost certain to be attacked on theway. Two or three bright men might slip away unseen, and get word tothe captain and back to me. You know the men better than I do. Whom doyou suggest?"
"I'd like to go myself, sir," proposed Sergeant Hal, his eyes blazingwith eagerness.
"Absolutely out of the question, Sergeant. You're second in commandhere, and there's no knowing at what moment I may be hit. Who's a goodman, outside of yourself?"
"Private Kelly."
"Send for him."
Kelly lost no time in reporting.
"Private Kelly, do you think you can slip through the enemy's lines andcarry a message from me to Captain Cortland?"
"I can, if any man in B Company can, sir," replied the soldier promptly,though without excitement.
"Who is the man you'd like best to have with you?"
"Slosson, sir."
"See if he wants the detail. I prefer that this shall be volunteerwork."
In a few minutes Kelly returned, accompanied by Slosson.
"Do you want to go, Slosson?" inquired Lieutenant Prescott.
"Yes, sir," responded the soldier promptly.
"It's an extra-dangerous detail, and you may lose your life."
"I'll chance it, sir. I broke my pipe in one of the rushes here, and Iwant to get back to barracks and get another."
Lieutenant Prescott could not repress a laugh over such a reason.Slosson joined in, good-humoredly and respectfully.
"Very good; you two men report here in half an hour and I'll have mymessage ready. Better fill your canteens with coffee before you start.Take nothing else but your cartridge belts, rifles and bayonets."
"Very good, sir," answered both soldiers, saluting and withdrawing.
Punctual to the moment, both men were back again. Lieutenant Prescotthad prepared his report, which he handed to Kelly, who fastened it in aninner pocket with a safety pin.
"Now, you'll want to start at once, for it won't be safe to return herelater than just before the coming of dawn," said Lieutenant Prescott.
"Yes, sir," answered both men coolly.
"Take care of yourselves, men!"
"Yes, sir."
"We'll watch and listen until you get safely away. If any trouble startsnear here hold your ground and rely upon my sending men to your aid."
"Very good, sir."
Lieutenant Prescott and Sergeant Overton watched the two soldiers stepover the entrenchment, crouch, and vanish into the darkness.
"I hope they get through," sighed the young officer. "By the way,Sergeant, from the fact of your recommending the men I didn't ask youwhether either man is likely to drink any intoxicant at Bontac and unfithimself for the return."
"Neither man touches liquor, sir."
"Then they're to be depended upon. I never trust work of importance to aman who drinks."
"There's a bed in the house for you, whenever you wish it to-night,"announced Mr. Seaforth, stepping outside.
"Thank you, sir, but when in the field I sleep with my men. I shallspread my poncho and blanket on the ground presently. Sergeant Overton,I leave you in command until half past one in the morning. At that hourrouse me, report, and then turn in yourself."
"Very good, sir."
"Of course, if anything turns up in the meantime, you'll call me."
"Yes, sir."
For some minutes more the two young Americans stood listening for soundsof possible trouble which Kelly and Slosson might have encountered. Thenthe lieutenant spread his bed and lay down without removing any of hisclothing, placing his revolver beside him on the ground.
Hal set guards on all sides, while the rest of the men turned in, whichthey were glad to do.
Another army now invaded them! Mosquitoes--myriads of them--buzzedbusily about, seeking whom they might devour! The mosquito of thePhilippines is well entitled to be called an insect of prey. He is a bigfellow, tireless, always hungry and a valiant fighter. The men who layon the ground carefully wrapped themselves in their blankets, with theirhands tucked in. Their heads and necks were protected by collapsiblenets that they had taken from their haversacks.
For those who were up and on duty the torment of the flying pests wasacute. There was little danger of a sentry going to sleep without a headnet and some protection for his hands.
"Ain't it awful, Sarge?" demanded Private Bender, as Hal paused nearhim.
"That word isn't strong enough," grinned Hal ruefully, as he "swatted"at mosquitoes three times in quick succession.
"I don't mind the Moros," continued Bender, "and I try to be a goodsoldier, but I'm afraid I'd surrender to the 'skeets' if they hadintelligence enough to recognize the white flag."
"We get only two years of this at a time," laughed Sergeant Hal. "Thenwe can go back to the United States for a vacation."
"I used to think, back in God's country, that a soldier's day and nightwere full of work," remarked Bender wistfully; "but I'd rather go backthere and go to work than have to stand these 'skeets.'"
"They're not so bad in barracks," Hal answered. "It's only in the fieldthat the pests can torment us like this."
"From present signs," commented Private Bender, "I'm thinking that we'llput in a large part of our two years in the field. These Moros are uglyand determined when they get started."
"They're not bothering us much just now," replied Hal, as he started onhis round of inspection.
Nine o'clock came and passed. Not a shot had been fired since late inthe afternoon. Nor had there been any sound to indicate that Kelly orSlosson had encountered trouble near the plantation. Now that he was incommand, Overton did not allow himself to be lulled into indifference bythe stillness of the dark night. A sleeping volcano might start intoeruption at any moment. At every important point along the trenches Halpaused, using the night glass that the lieutenant had loaned him.
Ten o'clock came and passed without trouble. Then eleven and finallymidnight passed. Sergeant Hal, however, was not to be caught napping. Heresolved to be vigilant until Lieutenant Prescott relieved him.
Hal had just glanced again at his watch, noting that the hour was nearlyone, when a quiet voice reached him:
"Private Bender calls the sergeant!"
Hal Overton ran quickly around to the place where B
ender stood peeringoff into the darkness.
"Use your glass yonder, Sarge," urged the soldier. "See if you seeanything moving."
"I do," Hal answered quietly. "I see figures crawling out of the woods,headed this way. Pass the word to rouse every man without noise. Then goto Lieutenant Prescott, with my compliments, and report that the enemyseem to be crawling this way."
Barely had Bender disappeared when Lieutenant Prescott came up on aquick trot.
"Starting things, are they, Sergeant?" the officer whispered.
"Here's your glass; look over there, sir."
Lieutenant Prescott looked quietly for a few seconds. Then he turned towhisper:
"Pass quickly along the lines, Sergeant, and order every man to load hismagazine. Instruct the squad leaders not to let their men get rattledand shoot too soon or too fast. This move may be only a ruse."
Bringing his hand smartly to the brim of his campaign hat, SergeantOverton was off with the orders. He soon returned, however, and took uphis position beside the lieutenant.
Then, in a twinkling, scattering Moro volleys sounded on the other sideof the house, followed by wild, savage yells.
"That's probably a ruse to draw us around there," muttered Prescott."Sergeant Dinsmore is there in charge, and he'll know what to do. Good!He's attending to it."
For now the sharper tones of the Army rifles began to rip out on thefurther side of the house.
Suddenly another volley of shots rang out on the near side of the house,showers of bullets driving in.
"Lie down, Sergeant!" ordered Lieutenant Prescott, falling back.
"Are you hit, sir?" asked Hal anxiously.
"No, no; look after your fire control. Let your men fire whenever theysee anything to hit, but not in volleys. Shoot sharp, men!"
Hal's regulars, crouching in the trench, needed no further orders. Theycould now see, dimly, the figures of the oncoming Moros, advancing byrushes.
The enemy's fire became so heavy that Lieutenant Prescott decided it tobe an act of prudence to crouch down himself, though he lay against thetrench wall, his head and arms fully exposed as he kept the night glassto his eyes.
"Low aim, men!" warned Hal, as he passed behind the firing line."Careful with every cartridge. Every brown man you hit is one less tomeet with cold steel!"
This is one of the first lessons that the soldier must learn on thefiring line. Every cartridge that he fires needlessly means one lessshot with which to defend himself. Every man he hits is one less to bereckoned with later.
"Don't fire heavily until the rascals get nearer," was Sergeant Hal'snext warning. "Those fellows are not very dangerous until they getclose. Then we'll have need of cool gun barrels and plenty ofcartridges. Steady!"
"That boy has the making of a commander in him," thought LieutenantPrescott approvingly. "He's cool and all business. The only thing in theworld that he's thinking of is how to make the squad work count. Heisn't losing his head."
Night firing is always uncertain. It is too dark to see the end sight onthe rifle and advancing figures show uncertainly, like waveringshadows.
"Don't fire so fast," called Hal, as the rifle work of the troops becamemore brisk. "Fire just enough to annoy the rascals. Save your real workuntil the enemy are within a hundred and fifty yards."
"Whee! When the goo-goos get that close they'll jump in and scalp us!"muttered a young soldier nervously.
Hal crouched beside the young soldier, resting a hand on his shoulder.
"Don't get nervous, Hunter," urged the young sergeant kindly. "Leave allemotion and quivers for the volunteers and for civilians. The regularshave smaller losses in battle because they depend upon their leaders anddo just what they're told. Remember it, lad."
Then Hal was gone, but Hunter found himself flushing a little, yetwonderfully steady in his nerves. He shot carefully, sighting as best hecould for every shot.
After another rush, during which they yelled like fiends, the Morosdropped to earth and began firing more heavily.
During that brief rush, however, the Moros lost several men, dropped byYankee bullets.
"Cease firing and cool your rifles!" shouted Lieutenant Prescott. "Loadyour magazines, and be ready to drop 'em when they try another rush."
A minute later Datto Hakkut's followers discovered that the Americanfire had ceased. Yelling, the brown men rose and charged like a cyclone.
"Begin firing! Give it to 'em--_hot_!" shouted the young officer,leading the firing coolly with his revolver.
Again the Moros dropped to earth, though not until they had lost a scoreof men. For a few moments they lay there, not attempting to keep up muchof a fire, for now that they were close to Uncle Sam's regulars, whowere firing steadily, it would have been suicide for a brown man toraise his head at all.
"Ta-ra-ta-ra-ta!" The bugler, sticking close to the officer, had tosound the order this time, for the cessation of firing.
"Every man lay his bayonet in front of him, ready to fix!" calledLieutenant Prescott, as the pop-pop-popping began to cease.
That meant cold steel--the final rush in which the regulars must meetseveral times their own number in deadly hand-to-hand conflict.