At the Fall of Port Arthur Part 3

"The captain is almost overboard. Throw us a rope."

Tom Grandon was quick to act. The rope came whizzing toward Larry, and in a twinkling he had it around his body and also around the captain.

"Haul in!" he called, and Grandon and two sailors did so. Over the rail came Captain Ponsberry, still fighting to release the tangled-up arm. In a moment more all danger was past.

"Well, how in the world did this happen?" questioned Grandon.

"Tell ye--soon as I can git free o' this consarned coat!" spluttered Captain Ponsberry, and he gave the garment a jerk that ripped one of the sleeves completely in half. "Did ye ever see sech foolishness?" he added. And then he told how the lurch of the s.h.i.+p had carried him over the rail just when he could use but one hand. "After this I reckon I'll put on my coat afore I go on deck," he concluded.

"It was a lucky thing that Larry heard you cry out," said the first mate. "I was at the wheel, helping Groot."

"That's right, Tom." The captain turned to the youth. "Larry, you're a brave one, and always was. I ain't going to forget this!"

"Oh, don't say anything about it," came from the young second mate, modestly. "I know you'd do as much for me, if I needed it."

"Well, I would, an' there's my hand on it," cried Captain Ponsberry, heartily, and gave Larry a grip that made him wince.

The storm kept up for the remainder of the day. But its worst fury was spent, and during the night the wind went down to nothing more than a stiff breeze, which was just what was wanted. All of the sails were again set; and the schooner resumed her course as before.

Before leaving Manila Larry had purchased a number of newspapers printed in that city in English. So far he had had no chance to look the sheets over, but now came two days in which there was little to do, and he spent several hours in devouring the news, while he also let his friend Luke do some reading.

"Tell ye what, this 'ere war between Russia and j.a.pan is goin' to be a big thing," said Luke, after reading an account of the first fights on land and on sea. "It ain't goin' to be no such short affair as our little rumpus in Cuby."

"You are right, Luke; this war is going to be a long and bitter one."

"Who is goin' to win, do you think?"

"I'm sure I don't know. Russia is a vast country, with millions of people and with an immense army and navy. I suppose she can put five times as many men in the field as j.a.pan can."

"But them j.a.ps know how to fight."

"Indeed they do--they have proved that already. And what is to their advantage, they are closer to Korea and Manchuria than Russia is. They can get on the fighting ground quicker,--which counts for a good deal."

"How those Russians must have been astonished when the j.a.panese wars.h.i.+ps sailed into 'em at Port Arthur last February. I don't believe they were expecting an attack."

"Hardly, for war had just been declared. But you wouldn't have caught Uncle Sam napping like that, Luke."

"Right ye are, lad; it ain't his style. An' then to see how them j.a.ps have been a-blowin' up the Russian wars.h.i.+ps ever since. They must have a fine navy."

"Yes, and good gunners, too. I was told in Nagasaki that quite a few American gunners were on their s.h.i.+ps--fellows who served under Dewey at Manila and under Sampson and Schley off Cuba."

"I believe you, lad. When a feller gits it in his bones to fight on a wars.h.i.+p there ain't no life on a merchantman goin' to satisfy him. Some jackies would rather fight nor eat--you know thet as well as I do."

"Well, I shouldn't mind doing some fighting myself. You know I was on a stand about going with Ben and Gilbert Pennington."

"Where do you reckon they are now?"

"In Manchuria, I suppose, fighting as hard as they can. I thought I would get a letter from them before we left Manila, but nothing came."

"I suppose the mails are all upset, on account of the war," put in Cal Vincent, who sat nearby, sewing a b.u.t.ton on his s.h.i.+rt. "If you'll remember, Nagasaki was in a big state of excitement while we were there last."

"Did they say anything about any Russian wars.h.i.+ps bein' in these parts?"

questioned Luke.

"No."

"It would be strange if we did fall in with them."

"Which puts me in mind," came from the boatswain, and then he gazed around to see if any other persons were near. "Semmel says he ain't no Russian, but it's dollars to doughnuts he is," he continued, in a lowered tone.

"Have you discovered anything new?" demanded Larry.

"Yes and no. Last night I overheard him and Peterson talking in a suspicious kind of a way. I didn't catch much, for they talked partly in English and partly in a foreign language. But I am sure they are favoring Russia, and Semmel said something about doing something to harm j.a.pan."

"I don't see how they could do anything on board of this s.h.i.+p," came from Luke.

"You didn't hear anything definite?"

"Can't say that I did," answered the boatswain.

"We had better watch them closer than ever."

"All right; I'll do my share," responded Vincent, and Luke Striker said the same.

That very afternoon Larry had another quarrel with the sailor with the long beard. Semmel had a bucket of dirty water which he was carrying to the s.h.i.+p's side. As Larry pa.s.sed he pretended to stub his toe and allowed some of the dirty water to flow over the young second mate's foot.

"Semmel, what did you do that for?" cried Larry, indignantly.

"Canno help dat," said the sailor. "I slip."

"You did it on purpose!"

"Oh, no!" And the sailor grinned wickedly.

"I say you did. If you try anything like that again, I'll make it warm for you. Get a swab and clean the deck up at once!"

As Semmel sauntered off, and while Larry was stamping the water from his shoe, Captain Ponsberry came up. He had seen the trick played from a distance.

"What did you tell Semmel?" he questioned, sharply.

"Told him to swab the deck up. I think he slopped the dirty water over me on purpose."

"Just my idea of it. I'll tell him what I think of it." And striding after the bearded sailor Captain Ponsberry gave him a lecture not to be readily forgotten.

"I won't have any of your dirty underhanded work aboard of my s.h.i.+p," he concluded. "Either you'll behave yourself, or I'll put you in irons."

"In irons!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Semmel, scowling viciously.