Ray's Daughter: A Story of Manila

by Charles King

  CHAPTER III.

  At one of the desert stations in the Humboldt Valley a physician boardedthe train under telegraphic orders from the company and went somedistance up the road.

  He had brought lint and bandages and soothing lotions, but in severalcases said no change was advisable, that with handkerchiefs contributedby the passengers and bandages made from surplus shirts, little Miss Rayhad extemporized well and had skilfully treated her bewildered patients.Questioned and complimented both, Miss Ray blushingly admitted that shehad studied "First Aid to the Wounded" and had had some instructions inthe post hospitals of more than one big frontier fort. Passengers hadransacked bags and trunks and presented spare clothing to the fewrecruits whom the garments would fit. But most of the men were shoelessand blanketed when morning dawned, and all were thankful when servedwith coffee and a light breakfast, though many even then were too muchexcited and some in too much pain to eat.

  Mellen, the laughing and joyous lad of yesterday, was nursing ablistered hand and arm and stalking about the car in stocking feet and apair of trousers two sizes too big for him. Murray, now that thecorporal was no longer able to retain active command, had resumed histruculent and swaggering manner. Almost the first thing he did was todemand more money of Foster, and call him a liar when told that everydollar was burned. Then he sought to pick a fight with Hunt, who had, ashe expressed it, "roped him like a steer," but the carload by this timehad had too much of his bluster and made common cause against him.

  Two brawny lads gave him fair warning that if he laid a finger on Huntthey would "lay him out." Then he insisted on seeing the corporal andcomplaining of ill-treatment. And with such diversion the long day woreon.

  Stuyvesant, refreshed by several hours of sleep, yet looking somewhatsinged and blistered, went through the car to see the sufferers alongtowards eleven o'clock. He had inquired of the porter for Miss Ray, whowas not visible when he had finished his toilet, and was told that shehad remained up until after the doctor came aboard, and was nowsleeping. Finding three of the men stretched in the berths with comradesfanning them, he ordered cooling drinks compounded by the steward, andlater, as they began the climb of the Sierras and the men grew hungry,he sought to get a substantial luncheon for them on the diner, but wastold their supply on hand was barely sufficient for the regularpassengers.

  So when the train stopped at Truckee he tumbled off with three of theparty, bought up a quantity of bread and cheese, soda crackers andfruit, and after consultation with the conductor wired ahead toSacramento for a hot dinner for eighteen men to be ready at therestaurant in the station, it being now certain that they could notreach San Francisco before midnight. "The company ought to do that,"said the trainmen, and "the company" had authorized the light breakfasttendered earlier in the day. In view of the fact that every item ofpersonal property in possession of the recruits had been destroyed,together with every crumb of their rations, nobody questioned that thecompany would only be too glad to do that much for the men so nearlyburned alive in their travelling holocaust.

  Not a doubt was entertained among either passengers or trainmen as tothe origin of the fire. It had started underneath, and the dry woodworkburned like tinder, and what was there to cause it but those blazingboxes on the forward truck? The conductor knew there had been no smokingaboard the car, and that every man was asleep when he went through attwo o'clock. The brakeman had prophesied disaster and danger. It wasGod's mercy that warned the poor fellows in time.

  Not until along in the afternoon, as they were spinning swiftly downthrough the marvellous scenery about Blue Canon and Cape Horn, did MissRay again appear. Stuyvesant had been sitting awhile by Connelly, andhad arranged with him to wire to the Presidio for ambulances to meet theparty at Oakland Pier, for two at least would be unable to walk, and,until provided with shoes and clothing, few could march the distance.Then he had spent a few minutes with the other patients.

  When he returned to the sleeper there at last was the object of so manyof his thoughts. But she was reclining wearily, her head upon a pillow,and the austere maid and two other women stood guard over her. "A severeheadache," was the explanation, and Stuyvesant felt that he must deferhis intrusion until later.

  Somewhere down the western slope of the Sierras he found at a stationsome delicious cherries, and a little basket of the choicest he madebold to send with his compliments and the hope that her indispositionwould soon disappear. The porter came back with the lady's thanks. Thecherries were "lovely," but Stuyvesant observed that not more than oneor two found their way to those pearly teeth, the rest being devoured byher too devoted attendants.

  It was after nine at night when he marshalled his motley party into thedining-room at Sacramento and they were made glad by substantial,well-cooked food, with abundant hot coffee. They thanked him gratefully,did many of the young fellows, and hoped they might meet more suchofficers. An elderly passenger who had quietly noted the outlay of moneyto which Mr. Stuyvesant had been subjected strolled up to the manager."That young gentleman has had to pay too much to-day. Just receipt thebill if you please," said he, and drew forth a roll of treasury notes.Stuyvesant went in search of this new benefactor when he heard of it."There was really no necessity, sir," said he, "though I fullyappreciate your kindness. The company will doubtless reimburse me forany such outlay."

  "If they will reimburse you, my young friend," said the veterantraveller drily, "they'll reimburse me. At all events, I know thembetter than you do, and I don't intend to let you bear all the risk."The lieutenant argued, but the elder was firm. As the men shuffled backto the train with full stomachs and brightened faces, Murray hulking bythem with averted eyes and Mellen tendering a grinning salute, themanager came forward. "There's one man shy, sir, even counting thedinners sent aboard," said he, and Hunt, hearing it, turned back andexplained.

  "It is Foster, sir. He said he wasn't hungry and couldn't eat. I reckonit's because he wouldn't turn out in such looking clothes as were givenhim."

  Yet when Stuyvesant went to the car to see whether the young soldiercould not be induced to change his mind, it was discovered that he hadturned out. His berth was empty. Nor did he appear until just as thetrain was starting. He explained that he had stepped off on the outerside away from the crowd for a little fresh air. There was plenty ofbread and cheese left from luncheon. He didn't care for anything,really. And, indeed, he seemed most anxious to get back to his berth andaway from the lieutenant, in whose presence he was obviously andpainfully ill at ease.

  Stuyvesant turned away, feeling a trifle annoyed or hurt, he couldn'ttell which, and swung himself to the platform of the sleeper as it camegliding by. At last he could hope to find opportunity to thank Miss Rayfor her attention to the injured men and incidentally her ministrationson his own account. Then, once arrived at San Francisco, where he hadfriends of rank and position in the army, he would surely meet someonewho knew her father well and possibly herself, some one to present himin due form, but for the present he could only hope to say aconventional word or two of gratitude, and he was striving to frame histhoughts as he hastened into the brightly lighted car and towards thesection where last he had seen her.

  It was occupied by a new-comer, a total stranger, and the three womenrecently sharing her section and more than sharing her cherries were nowin animated chat across the aisle. In blank surprise and disappointment,Stuyvesant turned and sought the porter.

  "Miss Ray! Yes, suh. She done got off at Sacramento, suh. Dere wasfriends come to meet her, and took her away in the carriage."

  Once more Stuyvesant found himself constrained to seek the society ofthe maiden of uncertain years. Her presence was forbidding, hercountenance severe, and her voice and intonation something appalling.But she might know Miss Ray's address; he could at least write histhanks; but he found the vice-president of the Order of the PatrioticDaughters of America in evil mood. She didn't know Miss Ray's address,and in the further assertion that she didn't want to know too readilybetrayed the fact th
at her petulance was due to her not having beenfavored therewith.

  "After all I did for her last night and to-day 'twould have been amighty little thing to tell where she was going to stop, but just soon'sher fine friends came aboard she dropped us like as if we weren't fit tonotice."

  The irate lady, however, seemed to find scant sympathy and support inthe faces of her listeners, some of whom had long since wearied of herstrident voice and oracular ways. It was well remembered that so farfrom being of aid or value in caring for the injured men, she hadpestered people with undesired advice and interference, had made muchnoise and no bandages, and later, when an official of the companyboarded the train, had constituted herself spokeswoman for thepassengers, not at all to their advantage and much to his disgust. Then,finding that Miss Ray was looked upon as the only heroine of theoccasion, she had assumed a guardianship, so to speak, over that younglady which became almost possessive in form, so passively was ittolerated.

  She had plied the girl with questions as to the friends who were to meether on arrival in San Francisco, and Miss Ray had smilingly givenevasive answers.

  When, therefore, they neared Sacramento and the vice-president announcedher intention of sallying forth to see to it that proper victuals wereprovided for her soldier boys, Miss Ray had a few minutes in which tomake her preparations, and the next thing the vice-president saw of hersupposed ward and dependant, that young lady was in the embrace of arichly dressed and most distinguished looking woman, whose gray haironly served to heighten the refinement of her features. Just behind theelder lady stood a silk-hatted dignitary in the prime of life, andbehind him a footman or valet, to whom the porter was handing Miss Ray'sbelongings.

  And what the vice-president so much resented was that Miss Ray had notonly never mentioned her purpose of leaving the train at Sacramento, butnever so much as introduced her friends, at whom the vice-presidentsmiled invitingly while accepting Miss Ray's courteous but brief thanksfor "so much attention during the afternoon," but who merely bowed inacknowledgment when she would have addressed them on the subject of MissRay's being of so much help to her when help was so much needed, and whospirited the young lady away to the handsome carriage awaiting her.

  The vice-president was distinctly of the opinion that folks didn't needto slink off in that way unless they were ashamed of where they weregoing or afraid of being found out, whereat Stuyvesant found himselfgritting his teeth with wrath, and so whirled about and left her.

  It was after midnight when they reached the pier at Oakland. There,under the great train-shed, track after track was covered with troopcars and a full regiment lay sleeping.

  An alert young officer of the guard raised his hand in salute asStuyvesant addressed him. No, there were no ambulances, no soldiers fromthe Presidio. They might be waiting across the ferry.

  But how was he to get the injured men across the ferry, thoughtStuyvesant. Two of them would have to be carried.

  The long train, except that recruit car, was now emptied. The throng ofpassengers had gone on through the waiting-rooms and up the stairway tothe saloon deck of the huge ferry-boat. If he purposed going, no timewas to be lost, and the porter bearing his hand-luggage ventured a wordto that effect.

  Stuyvesant looked back. There were protruding heads at many of thewindows of the recruit car, but, obedient to the instructions given byConnelly, no man, apparently, had left his place, and Connelly, thoughsuffering, had evidently resumed control, much benefited by the servicesof another physician who had boarded the train in the late afternoon andrenewed the bandages and dressings of the injured men. Then Stuyvesantbecame suddenly aware of a messenger-boy with a telegram. It wasaddressed to "Lieutenant Stuyvesant, A. D. C., Train No. 2, Oakland."Tearing it open, he read as follows:

  "Report by wire condition of Recruit Foster. If serious, have himconveyed to St. Paul's Hospital. Commission as lieutenant and signalofficer awaits him here."

  It was signed by the adjutant-general at department head-quarters, SanFrancisco.

  But the boy had still another. This too he held forth to Stuyvesant, andthe latter, not noticing that it was addressed "Commanding Officer U. S.Troops, Train No. 2," mechanically opened and read and made a spring forthe car.

  The message was from Port Costa, barely thirty miles away, and brieflysaid: "Any your men missing? Soldier left car here believed jumpedoverboard return trip ferry-boat."

  One man was missing. Recruit Foster, for whom a commission as lieutenantand signal officer was waiting at department head-quarters, could not befound.