A Gunner Aboard the "Yankee" Part 24

"And they would," said messenger "Hop," who happened to be pa.s.sing on his way aft to deliver an order.

The "Yankee" had seen some spirited fighting, though most of her crew had antic.i.p.ated nothing more exciting than patrol duty.

Moreover, it was almost certain that we had not seen the end of active service. At present, however, the crew settled down once more to the monotony of s.h.i.+p life in port--which is about equivalent to garrison duty for a soldier.

CHAPTER XVII.

IN G.o.d'S COUNTRY.

The "Yankee's" stay in Key West was marked by one of the most melancholy incidents of the cruise. Thomas Clinton LeValley, one of the first of the New York Naval Reserves to respond to the call for volunteers, died from appendicitis in the hospital ash.o.r.e, to which he had been removed for treatment. "Tom," as he was familiarly called by his s.h.i.+pmates, was on board the "Yankee" during the five engagements of that vessel, and proved himself loyal and steadfast on every occasion. He was well liked by the officers and men of the crew, and his death was deeply regretted by all. It was his fate to be the one member of the New York Naval Reserves to lose his life in the service of his country.

When a big barge heaped high with coal came alongside and was made fast, we began to doubt the a.s.surances given us, that the coal would be put in by outside labor. A tug hove in sight shortly afterward that caused our gloomy faces to light up with gladness, for it carried a gang of negroes. The tug made fast to the barge, and its living cargo was soon hard at work filling the s.h.i.+p's bunkers.

All that afternoon we "lingered in the lap of luxury," as "Bill" put it.

At six o'clock our dusky (doubly dusky) coal heavers went ash.o.r.e, their labor over for the day. Though the workmen had left, the work was still to continue. The crew coaled till twelve o'clock, working in quarter watches. The following day another barge came alongside and part of the crew had to turn to and help the hired shovellers.

"So much," said "Stump," snapping his fingers, "for the officers'

a.s.surances."

Up to this time we did not _know_ where we were going. Of course the "Rumor Committee" were ready with news of destinations galore. We were to return to our patrol duty, to join the Flying Squadron and threaten the coast towns of Spain, to join the blockading squadron off Havana. We were to do a dozen or more things just as probable or just as improbable.

A coal barge still lay alongside the starboard side of the s.h.i.+p, when a lighter appeared and made fast to the port side, loaded with express packages, parts of machinery, pipes, and bags of mail for every s.h.i.+p on the Santiago blockade.

"Now we will get those eight bags of mail," said a forecastle man, exultantly. And from that moment we knew we were going back to Cuba.

But like a good many people who think they know it all--we didn't.

Bunkers, holds--almost every available s.p.a.ce, in fact, was filled with coal.

Then began the much dreaded job of painting. Stages were hung over the side, each manned by two men, and with much reluctance we began to daub the old "Yankee" with gray paint.

The men were unaccustomed to such work, though some could handle the brushes sold in "artist's materials" shops well enough, and they spattered gray paint all over themselves. It was thought easier to wash skins than jumpers, so many were decorated in wonderful fas.h.i.+on.

"You would make a 'professor of tattooing' wild with envy," said Greene to "Steve," as the latter appeared over the rail.

"Well, I don't know," retorted "Steve," "I am thinking of reporting you for misappropriating government property. You've got more paint on yourself than you put on the s.h.i.+p."

After a day and a half of dreary work we had the satisfaction of seeing the vessel's sides one uniform color from stem to stern. It was a big job for such a short time and our arms ached at the very thought of it.

The sides painted, our attention was given to the decks. They were swabbed thoroughly, first with a damp swab, and after they were entirely dry the spar deck was covered with red sh.e.l.lac, this being applied with a wide varnish brush. The gun deck was then taken in hand and treated in the same way.

By Sat.u.r.day night the s.h.i.+p was as fine as a "brand new jumping-jack before the baby sucked the paint off."

Some of the men still suffered from black-and-blue spots, which, however, a little turpentine liniment would have banished.

Rumors were rife that we would be bound for New York shortly, but few believed them; the circulators themselves certainly did not, of that we felt sure.

"The idea!" said "Mourner," who, though ready to swallow most rumoristic pills, could not manage this one. "Go to New York with eighty bags of mail for the Santiago fleet! I can see us doing it."

[Ill.u.s.tration: "THE SPAR DECK WAS COVERED WITH RED Sh.e.l.lAC"]

[Ill.u.s.tration: "THE MARINES AIRED THEIR HAMMOCKS ON THE FORECASTLE DECK"]

"Taps" sounded at nine o'clock, and we were glad enough to turn in.

When all hands were called, I rubbed my eyes in astonishment, for as I glanced out of the deadlight near which my hammock swung, I saw that we were under way and well out to sea. I put on my togs in a hurry, and after las.h.i.+ng and stowing my "dream bag," rushed on deck.

Yes, sure enough, we were at sea.

"Stump" came and grabbed me round the waist--he could hardly reach higher. "We're bound for New York," said he. "We met the 'St. Paul'

going in and the signal boys say we signalled, 'We have urgent orders to proceed to New York.' What do you think of that?" he added, breathlessly.

"With eighty bags of mail for the Santiago fleet," said I, thinking of the poor fellows who were longing with all their hearts for those same bags.

"Regular navy style," added "Stump."

Though it was hard on our friends off Santiago we could not be cast down, and the near prospect of liberty--of an opportunity to see home and friends, of again setting foot on sh.o.r.e--transformed the entire crew.

Everywhere could be seen smiling faces. Laughter and merry chatter filled the air, and the rollicking songs written by "Steve" and others were more in evidence than ever. The daily routine of work seemed lighter. There was no grumbling, no fault finding; even the interminable task of s.h.i.+fting coal was carried on with actual cheerfulness. Grimy hands and blackened faces and tired bodies were forgotten.

"There's a mighty good dinner waiting for me in the dear old house,"

exclaimed "Stump," unctuously. "I can sniff it afar. And say, fellows, won't we forget--for a few hours at least--that such things as reveille and scrub and wash clothes and coal humping and salt-horse exist on earth?"

"Oh, good Mr. Captain, how long will it be before we hear the welcome call, 's.h.i.+ft into clean blue, the liberty party!' and find ourselves piling over the side," groaned "Hay."

"You will be glad enough to come back to your Uncle Samuel," grinned "Steve." "When your time is up you will be waiting for the boat."

"No doubt," replied Flagg. "We will be ready to complete our time of service, but there are some, if rumor speaks the truth--"

He finished with a significant wink.

He referred to the many threats of "French leave" made by certain members of the crew--threats which did not materialize except in a very few cases. The disgruntled members of the "Yankee's" crew were composed mainly of the "outside" men--men not of the Naval Reserves. Among the latter, despite the unaccustomed hards.h.i.+ps to which they were subjected, a firm determination existed to remain until lawfully mustered out.

The trip from Key West to New York was marked by only one important incident--the celebration of the Fourth of July. It was unlike that familiar to the majority of the crew. There were no fireworks, no parades, nor bands playing the national anthem. The day opened squally, and sharp gusts of rain swept the decks. The usual routine of work was proceeded with, and it was not until eight bells (noon) that we fully realized the date. At exactly midday a salute of twenty-one guns was fired, and those of us who were super-patriotic, took off our caps in honor of the flag. That ended the ceremony.

"Never mind," said Tommy, when one of the boys bewailed the meagre celebration, "never mind, s.h.i.+pmate. There's a good time coming when we can whoop 'er up for Old Glory as much as we please. Then we'll make up for to-day. We can't expect to do much under these conditions, you know."

The day following (a fine, _cool_, bright one, and how we did appreciate it!) was spent by all hands in getting the s.h.i.+p spick and span for the inspection of visitors, who were sure to be on hand to welcome us.

The semi-weekly ceremony of airing hammocks and bedding was indulged in.

The bugler blew "hammocks," whereupon all hands lined up to receive them from the stowers. They were then unlashed on the gun deck, and inspected by the officers of the different divisions, who ordered that they should be taken up to the spar deck. The blankets and mattresses were spread wherever sun and breeze could get at them. The rail, as well as the boats, was covered with them. Red blankets flaunted in the breeze from the rigging till we resembled an anarchist emigrant s.h.i.+p.

The marines aired their hammocks on the forecastle deck in the neighborhood of their guns.

After an hour or two, the word was pa.s.sed to "stow hammocks," and soon all was s.h.i.+pshape again.

This duty was performed once or twice a week, the frequency depending on weather and circ.u.mstances.