Читать книгу The North Pacific - Willis Boyd Allen - Страница 7

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The rest of the cruise of the Osprey was without special incident. Various drills were performed until every movement was executed to the officers' satisfaction. One of the most interesting was the "fire drill." A succession of loud, hurried strokes on the ship's bell brought the men hurrying up from below. Some ran to the hose, uncoiled it and coupled it to the pipes, others closed ports and ventilators, boat crews repaired to their stations, and in an almost incredibly short time water was gushing from the nozzle of the hose into the sea. Then there was "Boats and away!" the life-raft drill, signalling, and other manœuvres. Attention was paid to the slightest details, which were executed with the wonderful precision that characterises every naval movement. If the emergency should really arise, in the midst of a storm or under the enemy's fire, every man would know his station and the exact duties he was to perform. "Collision drill" and "setting up" finished the work in that line for the day.

During the afternoon land was near on both sides of the vessel, as she pursued her course to the north-west between Martha's Vineyard and the mainland. Nobska Head and, three hours later, Gay Head, were sighted and passed. Then the Osprey stood directly for Cape Charles. Just at sunset a heavy fog shut down.

"Three-quarters speed!" ordered Ensign Liddon, who was on the bridge.

"Three-quarters speed, sir," responded the quartermaster, throwing the indicators, which connected with the engine-room, around to that point. At about twelve knots an hour, or fifty-five revolutions of the screw to a minute, the ship crept steadily southward, with her whistle going twice a minute. At ten o'clock full speed was resumed, for the stars were out again.

The next day was fair, and the sun shone brightly on the broad ocean, on the white ship, and on the great steel gun which bore the inscription "Bethlehem"—the place where it was cast. "After all, it's a good peacemaker," said Lieutenant Staples, as he made his inspection tour, accompanied by Dr. Cutler. "There's thirty-six hundred pounds of peace," he added, patting the breech of the gun. On the deck, near by, a kitten was tumbling about in the sunshine. The men were engaged in mending, writing letters, and smoking idly.

At about noon the lightship off Cape May was left behind, and the Osprey started up Chesapeake Bay. When she had proceeded to a point sixteen miles below the mouth of the Potomac, she brought up for the night, a light fog rendering navigation difficult in those crowded waters. Early the next morning the gunboat weighed anchor and got under way. Just as she was turning into the Potomac she sighted the battleship Indiana outward bound with midshipmen on board in large numbers.

Staples immediately gave an order, and a string of gay flags fluttered at the yard-arm above the Osprey's decks. The signal was answered by the battleship, and the executive reported to Rexdale, "Permission to proceed, sir." When two ships of the navy meet, this permission must always be obtained from the one commanding officer who ranks the other.

Up the broad, placid river the Osprey moved, seeming to gain in size as the stream diminished; past wooded banks where cabins nestled in the greenery, or statelier homes lifted their white pillars; past the little cove where Booth, the assassin of President Lincoln, landed after crossing the Potomac in his mad flight; on toward Washington. At the Proving Ground a boat was sent ashore with a telephone message to Alexandria, ordering a tug-boat to meet the war-ship for two or three miles' tow to her dock.

When the Osprey was opposite Mount Vernon, a mournful strain from the bugle floated over the water from the ship's forward deck. The ensign was half-masted, every man on board faced the shore and stood at salute, while the bell tolled slowly until the sacred spot, the home of the great American, was passed.

Not long afterward the tug appeared, made fast to the gunboat, and towed her to the navy-yard wharf, where she was to await orders for further movements.

During the week that followed, two events took place which were destined to exert an important influence upon the subsequent history of the Osprey.

The first was the appearance of a new member of the mess, Midshipman Robert Starr. He was a cheery, good-natured young fellow, finishing his Academy course; full of fun, and a great joker. While the original ward-room mess were at first disposed to regret, if not to resent, this addition to their family, they soon liked him thoroughly, and, indeed, he became popular from one end of the ship to the other.

The other event of importance was a dinner given by Lieut. Commander Rexdale on board his ship. Among those who received invitations were the Commandant of the Yard, with his wife and daughter; one or two officers from a torpedo-destroyer then docked and out of commission; Fred Larkin, who happened to be in Washington; and two young girls, nieces of a Government official of high standing, Ethelwyn and Edith Black, aged respectively sixteen and nineteen. These fair young Anglo-Saxons were the guests of the commandant, and on finding that they were included in the invitation expressed their delight by seizing upon his daughter Mary and executing a sort of triple waltz around the room for fully five minutes.

"You see, dear," panted the younger Miss Black, adjusting an amber pin which had fallen from her sunny hair to the floor, "we've never been on a war-ship and haven't the least idea what it's like. Isn't that Captain Rexdale a dear!"

"There, there, Wynnie, do sit down and keep still for two minutes," laughed her quieter hostess. "You've just about shaken me to bits. Yes, Lieut. Commander Rexdale is nice, and so are the rest of the officers of the Osprey. You'll like Mr. Liddon, I know."

"And will your mother go?"

"Of course she will. How could we accept, if she were not to take care of us?"

"I don't need anybody to take care of me," remarked Wynnie demurely. "You'll see how nicely I'll behave—like the kittens in the poem—