by Anthology
"Hello, Lieutenant," he exclaimed, disregarding the officer's salutation, for the practical-minded admiral abhorred anything that savoured of the martinet; "I've got a little job for you. By the way, did you happen to hear how St. John was yanked out of that devil of a mess he got himself into a couple of weeks ago?"
Hooker smiled inwardly, for it was quite characteristic of his adored commander to express whatever opinion he might entertain, with the most unconcerned disregard of what exalted personage that opinion had reference to, or who heard it. But he answered seriously enough, "You mean the cutting of the railroad? Yes, sir, I heard about that."
"Oh, you did, did you?" And the Admiral regarded him keenly. "I wasn't aware that Lieutenant French and you were such close friends. However, that's aside from the question. It appears that the fellow who did the trick was to be given two weeks to reach the seacoast, if he survived, and St. John promised to notify me and have a dirigible sent to pick him up. St. John says in his despatch that he believes the man will be useful to me in a little plan I'm concocting for later on in the year. Well, I guess if he was clever enough to cut that railroad and stay alive to tell about it, I will be able to use him. Anyhow, here's where he's to be — easy bearings to remember. Think you can find that in the dark all right?"
"Yes, sir, I know I can."
"Good enough. When you're off the place, you'll show the Police private signal and he'll answer with a blue flare. Anything else you'd like to know?"
"No, sir."
"Better hang round a day or so, if the coast's clear, to give him a little leeway in case he isn't on the spot when you get there, and bring him to me as soon as you get back. Of course you're to keep away from the enemy as much as you can, but if you should happen to run across a Jap cruiser and feel like taking a shot at it, I won't reprimand you."
"Very well, sir. I understand."
"Get under way immediately." The admiral paused and looked up with a quizzical expression. "Glad of the chance for a little active work?"
"You bet I am," said Hooker fervently, quite forgetting the respect due his superior, but Barrows seemed pleased.
"It's a sign of my appreciation. When I like a man, I usually try to keep him twice as busy as any one else. That'll do, Lieutenant."
Hooker saluted and withdrew in high glee to make his preparations for departure. Outside the door, he encountered Lieutenant French, who was waiting to see the Admiral and receive his despatch.
"I'm off to pick up your mysterious stranger," said the naval officer, with a delighted grin. "Shall I give him your regards?"
"Congratulations! — yes, please do. Good luck to you — and, Hooker —"
"Yes?" The Lieutenant was halfway down the corridor.
"I'll expect a wedding invitation when the war's over."
But the corridor was empty.
Chapter XIII
The Mask Is Lifted
AT a little after four o'clock the Ariadne, her ensign snapping in the fresh breeze, slipped away unostentatiously from her moorings and headed for open water. In the pilot-house, Lieutenant Hooker stood at the control-board, spinning the small, brass-mounted wheel which governed the sea-rudder with skilful fingers and watching the slowly mounting column of oil in the gasbag pressure gauge. The gas hissed and sputtered as the clacking pump forced it through the expansion valve against an ever-increasing pressure, and with every stroke of the piston, the slender hull, vibrating with the thresh of the underwater screws, lifted a trifle until, as they cleared the harbour, the wet, glistening bilge from the bow to nearly amidships barely skimmed the surface of the water, and threw up great spouts of dazzling white spray as it cut into the rising seas. Without taking his eyes from the narrow oval window in front of him, the Lieutenant reached out his left hand and switched in the port high-speed gas-pump and with hardly a pause, shoved the long, red hand of the engine-room telegraph to "half speed ahead "and turned the shorter, black hand to "stop." As the underwater screws ceased to turn, the big aerial propellers began to revolve rapidly and pointing her nose skyward, the Ariadne soared into the air in a beautiful, perfect curve. With a smile of satisfaction, Hooker eased the horizontal rudders and pushed the red hand of the telegraph on to "full speed ahead," and the Ariadne, settling down to a steady sixty miles an hour, headed northeast on a long slant across the Yellow Sea.
The pilot-house door banged and Hooker's cadet entered, saluting gravely.
"Got everything secure, sonny?" asked the Lieutenant. "Yes, sir."
"You can take her, then, until six bells. There's your course. I'm going to turn in for a while. Call me if you see anything that looks suspicious."
"Yes, sir."
"— And mind, sonny — no running lights to-night."
"Very well, sir."
The cadet took his place at the control-board, conscientiously verified the course and the rate of sailing as indicated by the number of revolutions and the wind pressure, and fixed his gaze on the thick-glassed window in front of him — a model of watchful alertness. Hooker had already turned away to leave the pilothouse, but a sudden impulse made him pause and regard his subordinate's motionless back with an expression of pity. For some seconds the impulse struggled in vain against his unwillingness to risk wounding the sensibilities of another, but at last he could hold in no longer.
"For the Lord's sake, son!" he burst out; "fill your pipe and make yourself comfortable — we aren't running through a thick fog with a hostile fleet waiting for us just round the corner!"
Then, seeing the dull crimson slowly flood the smooth cheek of his startled junior, he quickly stepped to the young man's side and placed a kindly hand on his shoulder.
"I'm not criticising your work, son," he said. "As far as your duty is concerned, you're all that a man could wish for. But you mustn't take life in general and yourself in particular so seriously, or you'll never survive to wear an admiral's stars on your collar. Of course there are times — lots of 'em — when you've got to be as serious as you know how to be, but just for that very reason it's necessary to ease up some when you're able to, if you want to keep your equilibrium. A man can't keep speeded up to his maximum revolutions all the time any more than a dirigible can, without going to smash long before he should. You're a good boy, Leroy, and I believe you've good stuff in you, or I wouldn't be giving you these words of wisdom. Just keep in mind as much as you can that the technical part of your training-school information is all that's worth remembering and you'll come out all right."
And leaving the young officer this advice to ponder over through the hours of his vigil, the Lieutenant tramped off to his cabin for an equal period of rest before the long night of watchfulness that lay before him. It is worthy of note, however, that instead of taking immediate advantage of the short time that remained to him before going on duty again, he seated himself at his desk and contemplated the gold-framed photograph thoughtfully, turning over in his mind the while the last words of his friend, Lieutenant French.
"Of course it's utterly impossible," he reasoned with himself; "a dainty little thing like Mabel — and I'm a pretty rough specimen, when all's said and done — never had much to do with womenfolk — don't understand their ways." He mechanically filled his pipe and puffed rather mournfully. "She ought to marry some nice young fellow that's lived her kind of life and knows the kind of society she's used to. I wouldn't be the right person at all — couldn't stand my sailor manners. There was Gardiner, now — different with him — something in the make-up, I guess. My family's just as good as hers, but ten years in the navy take the polish off a man. She'd be disgusted with me twenty times a day. And youth takes to youth — only natural — understand one another better. And the life of a naval officer's wife is just plain hell, anyhow. No, it's selfish of me to even think of it."
He rose from his chair sorrowfully and, knocking the ashes from his pipe, stretched himself on his narrow couch and fell asleep immediately. The air, brushed aside in the Ariadne's rapid progress,
whistled past the open porthole of his cabin, sending in little vagrant gusts that stirred the hangings suddenly. The marine clock on the wall ticked away steadily, chiming the half hours with regular persistence and still the Lieutenant slumbered heavily, oblivious to all outward things. But when the silver-toned bell rang its three double strokes sharply, his eyes opened and he sat up, alert and ready on the instant.
In the pilot-house, the cadet briefly indicated the course he was steering and the ship's position, as Hooker took the wheel, and then retired to his own cabin while the Lieutenant settled himself for the night and dug down into his pocket for the leathern pouch filled with strong navy tobacco. The stars glinted coldly in the winter heavens as they moved across the black, vaulted earth roof in solemn majesty. The night wind sang keenly through the steel guys that bound the narrow hull to the huge gas-bag above. Below the keel, hill and valley lay flat and indistinct like the darkened surface of an immense map, spreading out immeasurably.
When the chronometer hands began to approach the hour of one, the Lieutenant's nostrils caught the first whiffs of salt-laden air and presently the dark waters of the Sea of Japan lay beneath them. The silent officer signalled the engine-room for half speed and, sliding back the big steel shutter on the port side of the pilot-house, leaned out and scanned the dimly-seen coastline. Satisfied of his position, he had the engines slowed down until the Ariadne was moving with barely speed enough to give her steerageway, and summoned his cadet and the quartermaster. Turning the wheel over to the former, he took his place at the port shutter and gazed intently shoreward, while in obedience to the veteran quartermaster's skilled hand, the electric bulbs swinging from the port spreader flashed out the Police private signal in an ever-changing gamut of red, white, red, white. Three times the lights blazed out, but the darkness of the shore remained untroubled by any answering sign. Hooker swore impatiently and called over his shoulder to the cadet.
"Bring her down, sonny. We're too conspicuous blazin' round up here."
With a jar and rattle the pumps waked to life and as the sucked-in gas moaned through the compression chamber, the Ariadne settled easily until her sharp hull entered the water and the waves slapped her straight sides. Trembling to the beat of her under water screws, she forged slowly ahead, the seas parting from her clean cutwater in two widely-diverging furrows.
"Searchlight off the starboard bow, sir," reported the cadet at the wheel.
"Damn the searchlight!" said the Lieutenant, with half his body through the open port. "Try him again, quartermaster."
An instant later he exclaimed, "By God, there he is!"
A brilliant blue flare burned up from the dim line of the shore and hung like the flame of some monstrous candle, lighting up the scenery all around it. Long before it died away again, Hooker's commands were flying like the shells of a quick-firer.
"Leroy, get the launch away and go ashore after that fellow. Quartermaster, switch on our port running light to mark our position. You'll have to make it in the dark, Leroy. I daren't turn our searchlight loose with that son-of-a-gun off there on the horizon. Be as quick as you can. I want to get out of here."
He leaned over the side and watched while the launch was swung outboard from its snug nesting-place aft of the pilot-house. The blue-clad crew tumbled in quickly, fending off with their hands and as Leroy jammed the wheel hard down, the little boat shot away and was swallowed up in the darkness. An interval of anxious waiting and she appeared again, with a closely muffled figure seated in the stern beside the cadet. The falls rattled through the blocks, and with an exclamation of relief and a last glance at the long pencil of light that was sweeping the sky, the Lieutenant rang up the engine-room, handed the wheel over to his returned subordinate, and went below to meet his passenger.
The man was seated in the wardroom with his head bent forward in his hands, but he looked up as Hooker entered and drew back with a gesture of uncontrollable surprise. An instant later he was master of himself once more and rising, advanced to greet, his host. The Lieutenant grasped his outstretched hand and shook it warmly.
"I've heard of your doings," he said; "and I want to say, sir, that history will have to stretch itself to match them. But I'm forgetting myself — it's grub you want more than praise just now. I guess you're pretty hungry after your trip."
The combined tact and cordiality were irresistible, and the stranger returned a smile of appreciation.
"I was just thinking, Lieutenant," he replied, "that I'd be willing to trade all my satisfaction at outwitting our enemies for one square meal."
"Luckily there's no earthly reason why you shouldn't have both," answered the naval officer, ringing for the Filipino wardroom boy. "If you've no objection, I'll give myself the honour of dining with you. I've been on most of the night and could do justice even to navy fare."
Throughout the meal, the stranger maintained an attitude of reserve and half-veiled suspicion as if he expected to be questioned as to his identity and past life, an expectation only natural in view of the anomaly he presented. But the Lieutenant appeared not to notice and after drawing from his guest a rather reluctant account of the blowing up of the tunnel and his subsequent journey to the coast, discoursed in general terms on the military and naval situation to date and the probable duration of the war. Little by little the stranger unbent and when at the close of the dinner, Hooker unlocked a cupboard and produced a cob-webbed bottle of ancient port — "contrary to the rules of the service, you know, but it's war time" — he leaned back in his chair luxuriously and allowed the rays of the bunched electrics to light up the rich colour of the wine with intense satisfaction.
"Lord!" he exclaimed; "it's good to enjoy the refinements of civilised life once more."
"Must be," returned his host absently. "Come into my cabin and have a smoke."
The stranger followed with alacrity and lighting the cigar tendered to him, inhaled the smoke with the delight of one who has not tasted good tobacco for many months. Warm and well-fed and utterly at peace, he forgot his suspicions and permitted his gaze to wander idly about the comfortable cabin, while the Lieutenant, sending quick, nervous smoke wreaths from his pipe, watched him keenly. At length the man's eye fell upon the gold-encircled photograph of Mabel Thornton above Hooker's desk and rested there in some astonishment.
"Don't you think," inquired the Lieutenant casually, intently noting every expression of his guest's features, "that in some ways she's a better looking girl than her sister?"
"Why, I wouldn't say so," began the other absently. He stopped abruptly and stared at his questioner with hanging jaw and frightful eyes.
"My God!" he cried softly and buried his face in his hands.
"Gardiner!"
In the tense silence, the ticking of the marine clock on the wall beat on the brain like the strokes of a hammer and the wind of early morning moaned through the open port like the memory of old joys long forgotten and awakened under the lash of present pain. At length the Captain raised his head. "Why in hell couldn't you leave me alone, Hooker?" he asked thickly. "Damn you, why couldn't you let me stay dead to the world as I wanted to be? I couldn't have lasted much longer."
"Why should you stay dead to the world with one of the finest girls God ever made waiting for you in America? She's loved you well, Gardiner, and suffered more than any one can tell, believing in your death. Don't you think you owe something to her?"
"Think of her! It's because I do think of her that I've done — what I've done — it's because if she knew that I was alive — if she knew why I was alive — she'd suffer even more —"
"So that's it," said the Lieutenant dully. "I might have guessed — it'd take something more than ordinary to make a man like you drop out —"
"— More than ordinary!" repeated the other bitterly; "my God!"
The Lieutenant tugged desperately at his shaven lip and suddenly leaned forward, laying a friendly hand on the Captain's arm.
"See here, old man," he said; "sup
pose you tell me the whole story. Of course it's none of my damned business, but I'd like to help you if I can and I'd like still more to help that little girl in the United States. Two heads are better than one — especially when one of 'em's got something on his mind that's driving him nearly crazy — and it's just possible we may be able to see some way out of this tangle that hasn't occurred to you."
The Captain shook the hand off fiercely. "Tell you!" he flashed. "D'you think I'd have condemned myself to hell for these past four months if I'd been willing that another man should know my shame?"
Hooker went white to the lips and drew back as though he had been struck in the face. "Of course you don't have to say anything if you don't want to," he said stiffly. "My offer was purely out of kindness, but if you don't trust me —" He hesitated, searching for a suitably dignified ending. But as he looked at the ragged, bowed figure of the Captain, so abject and broken by grief and suffering, his quick anger vanished utterly.
"Come, old man," he said compassionately; "suppose you turn in for a few hours. I should have known better than to rub you on the raw when you were all worn out. When you get a little rested we can talk this matter over again, or if you'd rather, I'll say nothing more about it."
There was no mistaking the real sympathy in the kindly blue eyes, and in spite of the iron hold he was endeavouring to keep upon himself, a mist gathered in the Captain's eyes and a choking rose in his throat.
"I'm — I'm a damned ungrateful beggar, Hooker," he stammered huskily; "but I'm — hardly master of myself —" He stopped suddenly and his lips quivered. "I've suffered some," he ended, looking up piteously.
The Lieutenant winked rapidly and pulled with energy at his pipe, but at length becoming aware that it had long been cold, he swore unsteadily and fumbled for a match with uncertain fingers.
