O’NEIL after leaving the midshipman went to his room under the forecastle and hid away the bundle of clothes until nightfall, when he intended to leave the ship under the cover of darkness.
As soon as he was sure his movements could not be observed, he let himself over the bow of the battle-ship and silently dropped into the water; his foreign uniform he carried in a flat roll on his head. He was a strong swimmer, and in but a few minutes he was standing safely on the dock. The friendly darkness permitted him unobserved to discard his sailor clothes, and he soon stood completely disguised in the garb of a Verazala naval officer.
He started out briskly for the public landing, hired a shore boat and was soon alongside the “Aquadores.”
The officer on duty greeted him as an old friend, and the boatswain’s mate was shortly in Captain Garcia’s presence.
O’Neil told his errand as soon as Captain Garcia would allow him time to speak; the Spaniard was enthusiastic in his reception of the American sailor.
“And, sir, I knew you would help me catch this man,” he added; “our young friend is to be tried by court martial, and if found guilty will be dismissed from the service.”
Captain Garcia showed the anxiety he felt for Phil’s predicament.
“I am always at the service of my American friends,” he declared immediately; “but how may I help you find this man?”
“He will go by steamer,” replied O’Neil, “and we must find out the one and drag him off before she sails. If I go alone I can’t do it, but you are known and they won’t dare stop us, if you are with me.”
“But may he not have sailed already?” questioned Captain Garcia anxiously.
“I have thought of that,” O’Neil answered decidedly; “he was at the legation late last night, and there has been no steamer sailing since. I’ll stake anything that he is still in La Boca.”
Inside of two hours every vessel in the harbor had been visited by the two men, but they were doomed to disappointment. Craig was not on board any of them.
Bitterly disappointed they walked disconsolately through the brilliantly lighted streets of the town; the city was in gala dress, celebrating the victory won by the government arms. They passed many soldiers of both armies, arm in arm; their differences were forgotten already and they fraternized as if they had always been the best of friends.
O’Neil felt his mission had failed. To-morrow morning at eight o’clock the court would try the midshipman, and the missing witness was as far out of his grasp as ever. Where in this great city could he turn to search for him? Then his thoughts turned to Ensign Lazar; he had gone to the admiral to obtain permission to go ashore when he went to the midshipmen’s room. Where would he be in this thickly populated city? O’Neil felt confident that if he could find him Craig would not be far away.
The two friends were passing a palatial residence on the Plaza. An automobile standing at the curb caught O’Neil’s eye, the chauffeur sitting erect and expectant in the front seat.
“Whose house is that?” he asked, suddenly turning to Captain Garcia.
“The house of one of our most loyal citizens, Señor Mareno,” he answered; “he is rich and powerful and stands high in the favor of General Barras. That is his automobile; he rides in it all the time; it has just been returned to him; it was stolen on the day of the assault by the rebels from one of his country villas.”
O’Neil stopped suddenly and gazed at the house. Mareno must be there; the automobile was awaiting him; its gasoline engine was puffing and ready to propel the heavy car over the streets of the city at a speed far greater than they could possibly follow.
Captain Garcia’s voice interrupted O’Neil’s cheerless thoughts.
“Our president,” he was saying, “for the loyal work of Señor Mareno’s firm, La Fitte and Company, during the war, has promised to give the vast mining concession to it. In these times of rebellion loyalty is a rare jewel.”
“What did Mareno do?” asked O’Neil in genuine surprise.
“It was he that loaned the government the money to buy the ‘Aquadores,’” Captain Garcia answered proudly. “Our government had no credit and the company who built the cruiser would not allow her to leave their shipyard until every dollar of the money had been paid. The victory of the ‘Aquadores’ at Rio Grande made the rebel cause a failure, for if they had won and then had blockaded La Boca, the government must have fallen.”
O’Neil was puzzled; there was more intrigue that his friends the midshipmen had failed to discover. So Mareno had made himself secure with both sides.
“If it had not been for you and your companions,” continued Captain Garcia after a pause, “we could not have won. My crew, as you know, were green men and were almost mutinous. My officers were half-hearted and my executive officer I feel sure was in the pay of the enemy. He resisted my authority from the day we left the United States and when we sailed from La Boca for Rio Grande, I found a means of leaving him behind.”
While Captain Garcia was speaking two men came hurriedly out of the house and got into the waiting machine.
“That’s Señor Mareno now,” exclaimed Captain Garcia. “I know him well. He owns most of the steamship lines, and can help us by ordering his agents to watch for this man when he buys his ticket. I shall speak to him at once,” and he drew away from O’Neil and stepped quickly to the side of the machine.
“Good-evening, Señor Mareno,” he said saluting him in military fashion. “May I detain you but a moment?”
Mareno turned a startled face toward the naval officer.
“What do you want?” he questioned impatiently.
O’Neil saw at a glance that the meeting was inopportune for the merchant. The sailor edged nearer, his curiosity aroused. An electric street lamp above them threw their faces in shadow; but there was something familiar in the figure sitting beside Mareno in the automobile.
“Mr. Lazar,” he gasped beneath his breath; he reached out and took Captain Garcia by the arm, almost roughly, and wheeled him about. The next second the automobile had gone.
Captain Garcia turned on O’Neil, a world of surprise in his face.
“Why did you do that?” he exclaimed. “He surely could have helped us.”
The sailor looked about him hurriedly. So Lazar and Mareno were hiding Craig. If they would find him they must follow the automobile; but how?
“The man with him was Ensign Lazar,” O’Neil explained to the amazed captain. “If he recognizes me the game is up. How can we follow them?”
Captain Garcia was still more amazed at hearing this startling news. Why was Señor Mareno with Mr. Lazar? What part had Señor Mareno in the plot to convict his young friend, Midshipman Perry? And was he a friend of the man who had sold the machine guns back to the rebels?
“Come,” he cried much aroused, “there’s an automobile standing on the next corner, but I fear we can’t catch them; Señor Mareno’s machine is the fastest in the city.”
As luck would have it they found a waiting machine, and jumping in Captain Garcia hurriedly gave the order.
“Mariel road, quick,” he cried to the chauffeur.
In a minute they were speeding through the streets and out on the lonely road to Mariel.
The quarry was not in sight; had they turned off on one of the many cross streets? This was surely the direction they had taken.
They sped along, O’Neil pressing money into the hands of the chauffeur to open wider his throttle.
“There they are,” O’Neil whispered triumphantly as a dark object came in sight ahead. The pursuers were gaining slowly.
The machine ahead was slowing, and O’Neil whispered to their chauffeur to go on by. They passed Mareno and Lazar as they were alighting from the automobile and entering a large house by the roadside.
“Mareno’s country home,” whispered Captain Garcia as their machine whizzed past.
“Then here we’ll find Craig,” replied O’Neil confidently, as he directed the chauffeur to stop their machine.
Out of sight of the overtaken men they left their machine and went back on foot. Reaching the house they saw Mareno’s automobile had drawn up inside the yard and the chauffeur had already made himself comfortable for a nap.
“They are inside,” O’Neil whispered, “and will be there some time, from the looks of that man yonder,” pointing to the reclining figure. “We’ve got to get inside.”
Captain Garcia hesitated.
“This man Mareno is powerful,” he objected. “I dare not force an entrance into his house.”
They had approached the house from the rear. O’Neil pushed a door gently; it yielded and the next moment they found themselves in a small room.
The room was unlighted, but the fire on the hearth illuminated obscurely their surroundings.
A native jumped up from a couch, rubbing his eyes; seeing the officers he doffed his hat respectfully.
“Whom do you wish to see, señors?” he asked.
“We are friends of Señor Mareno, who is up-stairs, is he not? We shall go up,” O’Neil answered quickly in a low voice.
The man seemed to hold no suspicions; he was glad to get back to his interrupted nap.
“Very well, señors,” he answered.
The two men cautiously walked up the narrow stairs. Reaching the next floor, they stopped, breathless, to listen.
A sound of voices came from a room in the front of the house.
Captain Garcia was worried. He did not relish his mission; there was too much at stake for him if Mareno discovered that they had forced an entrance into his house. In these countries it is but a step to a prison cell and another to the execution wall where many men are put to death daily during these revolutions. He was anxious to retrace his steps, but O’Neil held him firmly by the arm.
The voices of Mareno and Lazar sounded distinctly; they were talking in loud natural tones, so sure were they that they were alone in this lonely house.
“I have changed the letter, Señor Mareno,” Lazar was saying; “here it is: as it reads now your name does not appear and Midshipman Perry’s name has been substituted. But you must make sure that the minister and the president never meet, for they might discover the change in the letter.”
“I have arranged that,” answered Mareno. “As soon as the fleet leaves, which will be to-morrow, the president will telegraph to Washington for the minister’s recall, giving the reason that he is unsatisfactory to the government.”
“Good,” Lazar’s voice replied; “then you have nothing to fear, unless General Ruiz might tell of your share in the rebellion.”
“Ah,” Mareno’s voice had a glad ring, “he knows nothing. Juarez alone knew of my support, and he is dead; he was the agent in all my transactions.”
“Very well; I shall deliver this letter in person at the palace this evening,” Lazar said, “and then we must put this man on board the steamer. I don’t believe he will live to reach Mexico.”
Captain Garcia knew nothing of the letter, but from the trend of the conversation between the two conspirators he saw that the much trusted Mareno had done something which Lazar was endeavoring to cover up for him. He dared not ask O’Neil; even a whisper might be heard.
“What is the name of the steamer?” Lazar added. “It is now after midnight. At what time will she sail?”
“It is the ‘Mercedes’; one of our own ships,” Mareno answered; “she is scheduled to sail at daylight and her first port will be Vera Cruz, Mexico; her captain need know nothing except that the sick man is to be landed there.”
“Can’t she sail as soon as we get this man on board?” Lazar asked eagerly. “I shall breathe freer when he is on the high seas. My enemies have resources and the sooner we get this man away the less danger there is for me. The court meets at eight o’clock, and without this witness my friend Midshipman Perry must be convicted.”
THE DOOR OF THE ROOM OPENED
SUDDENLY
“That can be easily arranged,” Mareno agreed at once. “She has already cleared the custom-house and can sail whenever I give the word.”
O’Neil glanced at Captain Garcia’s face. The light through the transom of the room in which the conspirators were shone dimly on his strong face. O’Neil was fairly startled at its expression. He feared that upon hearing the course which his enemy would pursue, Garcia might act precipitately, and spoil the plan.
“Come,” the sailor whispered, grasping the captain’s arm, “we must go.”
But the naval officer could not be moved. He reached in his pocket and drew out a silver-mounted revolver, and took a step forward toward the door of the room.
“You’ll spoil everything,” O’Neil whispered hoarsely.
The door of the room opened suddenly and a flood of light shone out in the hallway. Lazar stood on the threshold, his face turned backward over his shoulder; he was talking to Mareno behind him.
“Craig is up-stairs, is he not? I shall get him and join you immediately,” he said.
O’Neil was terribly anxious. If their presence were discovered, the conspirators would change their plans. The light seemed to fall directly upon himself and Captain Garcia. How could Lazar fail to see them?
Lazar passed the eavesdroppers so close that it seemed to O’Neil detection was a certainty. What should he do? He dared not lift his hand against his superior officer. His long training in the navy had taught him what terrible consequences would be the result of such a rash act. He held his breath tightly and drew Captain Garcia closer against the wall. The door swung shut and the hall was again in partial gloom. Lazar’s footfalls could be heard ascending the stairs.
“We’ve got to get out,” he breathed in relief as he half dragged his companion down the steps.
They left the house by the way they had entered; this time they were not observed, for the caretaker of the house was fast asleep.
Reaching their automobile they got in and waited for their enemies to leave the house.
“What does it mean?” Captain Garcia asked excitedly. “What is this letter?”
O’Neil explained how Mareno had informed the minister that Ruiz’s attack would be on Tortuga Hill. How the midshipmen had discovered him in the house of Juarez where the stolen arms were stored, and how the minister had written a letter to General Barras telling from whom the information came.
“A clever plot indeed,” cried Captain Garcia. “Mr. Lazar has changed this letter clearing Señor Mareno and putting the guilt on Midshipman Perry’s shoulders, and Señor Mareno has induced the president meanwhile, before the arrival of the letter, to ask the Washington government to recall the minister. My inclinations were as an officer of our government to arrest Señor Mareno for treason.”
“That would have defeated us,” answered O’Neil. “They wouldn’t have submitted without a fight and I couldn’t have raised my hand against Ensign Lazar.”
“I can hardly believe that Señor Mareno is a rebel,” declared Captain Garcia excitedly; “if so, why did he buy the ‘Aquadores’ for General Barras’ government?”
“That’s easy to see now,” answered O’Neil with a superior smile; “didn’t you say your executive officer was mutinous and your crew were all green men?”
The naked truth dawned on the unsuspecting naval officer.
“You mean that Mareno believed that on our arrival in La Boca the ‘Aquadores’ would fly the rebel flag,” cried the naval officer, aghast at the depth of the treason of which Mareno was the instigator.
“Certainly,” O’Neil replied; “he thought it was as good as buying her for the rebels and a better and easier way. Even when you went after the rebel ships at Rio Grande, he was sure you’d be licked, and before he could get news of the fight he spread the report that she’d been sunk.”
Captain Garcia was stunned at the extent of the conspiracy.
“Then I owe you and your companions much more than I dreamed,” he cried putting his arm affectionately on O’Neil’s shoulder. “That explains why their two vessels seemed so eager to give us battle. They thought we would prove an easy victim.”
O’Neil nodded.
“But now, Captain Garcia,” he exclaimed earnestly, “you’ve got your chance to repay us.”
“Myself and everything I can command are at your service,” the Spaniard gratefully replied.
“Then here’s my plan,” O’Neil explained hurriedly: “they’ll put Craig in that machine and take him to La Boca; then on board the ‘Mercedes,’ and we can’t stop them. She’ll get away and then we’ll follow her in the ‘Aquadores’ and bring Craig back. Isn’t that easy? Will you do it?”
“Willingly,” the captain exclaimed delightedly. “You are a clever man to have thought of this. Fortunately I have steam up in my vessel and as soon as we get on board we can be under way.”
It seemed hours to the anxious men before Mareno’s machine moved slowly up to the door; its headlight cutting through the darkness illuminating brightly the courtyard in front of the house.
“They are going at last,” whispered O’Neil. “What time is it?”
Captain Garcia took out his watch and glanced at its face.
“It’s after two,” he answered; “they have been in there two hours.”
The automobile in front of the house moved swiftly toward them. As it reached the machine in which our friends were awaiting it speeded up and tore past them. O’Neil looked closely; the curtains were drawn, and he could see nothing within.
“What does that mean?” questioned Captain Garcia in amazement. “They are going to Mariel.”
“It means my plan is no good,” cried O’Neil despairingly. “Mareno has had the ‘Mercedes’ sent to Mariel and they’ll put him on board her there.”
“Quick, man,” cried Captain Garcia as he watched Señor Mareno’s machine fade in the distance. “What shall we do?”
O’Neil was in deep thought. Did he dare attack these men and take Craig forcibly away from them? It would mean a prison for him.
“Follow them,” he ordered sharply, “for all you’re worth. I’ll give you ten pesos if you catch her before we get to Mariel,” he cried to the chauffeur.
Their automobile bounded ahead and rushed along the dark road. Mile after mile was eaten up by the steel monster. The anxious men peered ahead hoping to see the dark form of Mareno’s machine, but the suburbs of Mariel were reached and their enemies were still invisible.
“If we catch ’em,” rasped O’Neil, “we must seize Craig by force; it’s our last chance.”
Captain Garcia was delighted. That had been his plan from the first.
“I’ll swing for it if Mr. Lazar recognizes me,” O’Neil muttered, “but the fun’ll be worth it.”
The black smudge in the road ahead of them slowly took shape out of the darkness. The anxious seekers breathed easier, as they looked to their weapons.
“Bring her alongside,” O’Neil ordered the amazed chauffeur.
The man did not relish this hazardous undertaking on a rough and narrow road, but the sight of the sailor’s revolver gave him the courage to steer his machine abreast of the fleeing automobile ahead of them.
“Hold there!” Captain Garcia shouted firing his revolver to emphasize his order; “we want to speak to you.”
The other machine immediately slowed and the two cars were soon motionless side by side on the road.
It was but the work of a second for our two friends to leap out of their car and throw back the curtains of the other car. O’Neil, with his automobile goggles concealing the upper part of his face, advanced, his revolver in front of him covering the occupants inside. Captain Garcia covered with his revolver the trembling chauffeur.
“They are not here,” O’Neil gasped; “they have tricked us again.”
O’Neil was in despair. Captain Garcia’s watch showed it was nearly three o’clock. Their enemies had surely gone to La Boca hours ago and had used this automobile to delay them until they could get Craig safely on board the ship and away from the harbor.
“They knew we had followed ’em,” O’Neil exclaimed. “That native wasn’t as sleepy as we thought.”
In a second they were inside their machine and were speeding back along the road.
Reaching the villa of Mareno, they alighted by mutual consent and boldly entered the house by the rear door.
The native was dragged from his bed and under the terrifying influence of a loaded revolver at his head confessed that Señor Mareno and two companions had gone on foot nearly three hours ago, and that they had been told of the presence in the house of the two naval officers.
“We can catch her yet,” Captain Garcia declared stoutly as they sped back to La Boca.
In the course of what seemed ages to O’Neil, but was in reality but a half hour, they were on board the “Aquadores.”
As the cruiser steamed out of the harbor, O’Neil heard with a sinking heart the bells strike on the men-of-war at anchor. It was four o’clock and the escaping vessel had over three hours start. He had lost. The court would meet in four short hours and Midshipman Perry would be adjudged guilty.
Swiftly the “Aquadores” steamed to the westward. Captain Garcia and O’Neil on the forward bridge watched with failing hopes the gray of dawn spread on the eastern horizon behind them. The sea in front was unbroken. Their prize was not in sight.
Swiftly the cruiser plowed her way through the tranquil sea, but swifter yet the hands of the clock moved around its fatal dial. The sun appeared on the horizon out of a molten sea.
As the gloom slowly melted, the eager sailor, straining his eyes to discover the vessel he hoped the increasing light would soon reveal, sighted the black hull of a steamer but a few miles ahead.
“We’ve got her!” he cried joyously, then he turned with apprehension and saw the hands of the clock stood at six. “Stop her with a shot!” he pleaded. “We need every minute.”
Captain Garcia gave a hurried order and a six-inch shell soared in the air, raising a column of water close to the merchantman.
“That did the business,” O’Neil exclaimed as the merchantman stopped and ran up Verazalan colors at her gaff.
In a few minutes the “Aquadores” was hove to near the “Mercedes” and Captain Garcia and O’Neil were quickly rowed to the intercepted vessel.
They climbed to the top of the sea ladder, where the merchant captain met them.
“You have a sick man on board,” Captain Garcia began in a tone of authority; “we want to take him back with us immediately. Do you understand?”
The sailing master gave the naval men a look of inquiry and amazement.
“We have a man who is very ill; he was brought on board by Señor Mareno just before we sailed,” he answered. “This is irregular,” he added, more boldly.
“You are on the high seas,” Captain Garcia retorted savagely. “I alone am responsible for my actions. Take me to this man.”
The merchantman was not in his employer’s secret, but he readily saw that these officers were defeating his intentions. Fear of Mareno made him hesitate. But he knew he was at their mercy; a glance at the formidable cruiser close by assured him of that.
“Come with me,” he said gruffly, leading them to a stateroom on the lower deck.
There O’Neil saw a sight that wrung his heart. Craig’s emaciated form lay on the bed; his feverish eyes wide with a terrible fear as he recognized the boatswain’s mate, in spite of his foreign uniform.
The petty officer walked over to his bedside and looked down at him compassionately. He put his hand almost affectionately on his hot brow.
“You must come back with us, Craig,” he said determinedly; “you’ll not be harmed. Don’t kick; we’ve just time to get back to clear Mr. Perry.”
The sick man cringed and turned white with terror. A fearful shaking took hold of his thin form.
“I dare not,” he pleaded in a terrified whisper. “They’ll send me to a penitentiary for my crimes.”
“Don’t take on so,” exclaimed O’Neil in exasperation, as he saw the precious minutes slipping away. “A hospital is where they’ll send you.”
He beckoned to Captain Garcia and together they lifted the almost exhausted man from his bed; he struggled feebly, but soon realized he was only wasting his strength.
They carried him down into the boat and aboard the “Aquadores,” which was soon heading at top speed back for La Boca.
O’Neil did his utmost to cheer the dejected machinist, who lay tossing miserably, brooding over his imaginary troubles.
“You just tell the truth, Craig,” O’Neil counseled, “and you’ll not be harmed. Mr. Lazar will not be in it if you tell your tale to the court.”
O’Neil saw with sinking hopes that it was eight o’clock; the court had met and the “Aquadores” was nearly half an hour away. If she were too late in bringing this important witness, none but the President of the United States could grant a reprieve to the condemned midshipman.
“But do your best, Captain Garcia,” he urged. “If luck is with us we may save him yet.”