IN THE DANGER ZONE

Harry was awakened the next morning by the clanking of heavy chains, rumbling of iron trucks, banging of doors, creaking of cordage, and the hoarse shouts of men. Above the unusual din the voice of the captain rose deep and resonant. Harry sat up in his bunk in wonderment. The usually quiet and methodical ship seemed to have in an instant been transformed into what to the ear might easily resemble an iron foundry. The noise also aroused Bert and Mason.

“What’s our friend the buccaneer up to now?” queried Mason, rubbing his sleepy eyes.

“The sooner we get on deck, the quicker we shall find out,” answered Harry, jumping from his bunk and beginning to dress hurriedly.

“Sounds to me suspiciously like a pirate chief and his blood-thirsty crew preparing to board an unsuspecting ship,” said the irrepressible Midget, as he poked his head into his shirt. “Shouldn’t be a bit surprised when we get on deck to find a lot of evil-faced men armed to the teeth you know pirates are always evil-faced. By the way, did you ever know how the expression ‘armed to the teeth’ originated? Well, you see, after a pirate has stuck his belt full of pistols and cutlasses, and has both hands full of guns, he just chucks a dirk in his mouth and then, of course, he is armed to the teeth. Singular how you fellows are always drawing on my fund of general information. One dollar, please.”

“Stop your nonsense, Midget,” said Harry. “Remember what Captain Dynamite said last night. We are in the zone of danger to-day.”

The noise had now somewhat subsided, and by the time the boys were dressed the usual quiet pervaded the ship.

Harry stepped from their stateroom into the main cabin and was surprised to see the captain sitting quietly at the table with his back turned to him. His elbows were resting on the table and his face was in his hands. He was looking intently at some object in front of him. He did not move as Harry approached, and the boy could see that he was gazing at a portrait.

“Good morning, sir,” said Harry, stopping at a respectful distance. “Have we struck the danger zone, yet?”

“Danger danger?”

The captain almost shrieked the words as he leaped to his feet, and clasping the portrait to his breast as if to protect it, turned fiercely on the boy.

“O, it’s you,” he said quickly, on recognizing Harry. Then he passed his hand over his eyes as if returning from a trance.

“I was with her when you spoke,” he said softly, “and then the thought of danger drives me mad. See

The captain held out the photograph for the boy’s inspection. It was the picture of a beautiful young woman of Spanish type, with dark hair and eyes.

“This time I take her home as my bride. She has promised it. I have left her too long at the mercy of Weyler’s bloodhounds. But Gomez will see that no harm comes to my Juanita. He has promised. The general has promised, and soon very soon, I shall take her away away from this danger zone.”

The big man seemed dreaming again as his eyes rested with an expression as soft as a woman’s on the fair face of the girl. Then with that characteristic shake of his huge body he placed the portrait carefully in an inner pocket, next his heart, and turned again to Harry with his dare-devil laugh on his lips.

“Ha, ha! Danger zone? Oh, sure, we are in it. But we are ready for ’em, my boy. All’s in shipshape for friend or foe. We’ve set a smiling face to the fore, my lad, but a broad laugh would uncover some moighty sharp teeth.” At this moment the mate hurriedly entered the cabin and saluted.

“What is it, Suarez?” asked the captain, quickly.

“Smoke off the starboard bow, sir.”

“Can you make her out?”

“Not yet, sir.”

“Call me when you can.”

The mate saluted again and retired. The captain turned away from Harry unceremoniously, and Bert and Mason having joined him, the boys went on deck. There was no change apparent that would have accounted for the strange noises that had awakened them, except that the hatches were now fastened down with heavy iron bars and the little forward hatch where Harry had made his first tour of inspection was guarded by two men, who stood with folded arms on either side. There were now two men on lookout aft as well as forward. They paced slowly to and fro, their eyes fixed astern. Amidships, on both the starboard and port sides, a man walked backward and forward over a space of about fifteen feet, always closely scanning the sea on either side. Off the starboard bow could be seen a thin thread of smoke that rose almost perpendicularly in the still air.

The boys had never before seen so many men on deck at the same time. Not a word was spoken as the lookouts fore and aft passed and repassed each other. On the bridge both mates were on duty.

“Say, where do you suppose all these dummies sprang from, anyway?” asked Mason, as he surveyed the scene in astonishment. “I wonder if there are any more where they came from?”

“Let’s go down and interview our friend Sambo,” said Harry. “He has been growing communicative lately. Yesterday he deigned to say ‘Yas, sah.’ Maybe we can coax something more out of him.”

When they reached the galley, to the boys’ great surprise, the negro poked his head out over the half door and grinning broadly, said:

“Mornin’, sahs.”

“Why, Sambo,” said Bert, in astonishment, “where did you find your tongue?”

“Always pick it up again in danger zone, sah.”

“There goes that danger zone again,” said Mason, in disgust. “I don’t believe there is any danger between here and the equator, Sambo.”

“Name not Sambo, sah. George Washington Jenks, New York, U. S. A., at yo’ service, gents.”

Finding the negro in such an unusual mood the boys grouped themselves about the door intending to draw the man out if possible, and learn what they could that might serve to confirm their suspicions as to the purpose of their cruise. As Harry stepped up to the door and brought the man’s entire body into view, he noticed with amazement that he wore a cartridge belt and pistol holster from which the butt of a revolver peeped.

“Why, George, what are you carrying a pistol for this morning. Afraid the crew will mutiny?”

“Always carry gun in danger zone, sah,” replied the negro, grinning still more.

“The whole ship has gone crazy over the danger zone,” said Bert.

“Yas, sah,” said George Washington. “May have mix-up bime-by,” and he jerked his thumb over his starboard shoulder.

“Mix-up with the captain?”

“Humph. George Wash’n Jenks not such a blame fool’s that. Mix-up with steamer coming up to starboard. May be, may be not. Not such a mucher at guessing.”

“Is that why you are carrying a pistol; because a steamer is coming up?”

“Always carry gun in danger zone, sah,” and again the negro grinned tantalizingly.

“George Washington Jenks, New York, U. S. A., I have a nice, green one dollar bill saved from a watery grave,” said Harry, “and if you will tell us what the danger zone is, you can have it.”

As Harry spoke he pulled a bill out of his pocket and displayed it temptingly before the negro. George Washington Jenks looked at it covetously out of the corner of his eye. Then he shook his head proudly.

“Better go ask Cap’n Dynamite. Might be he need the money. George Wash Jenks don’t.”

“I guess you are true blue, Wash,” laughed Harry, as he put the money back in his pocket.

“You pretty good guesser, sah. Not such a mucher myself.”

The boys, convinced that they could gain no information from the negro, and realizing the uselessness of attempting to question any others of the crew, strolled aft again. It seemed to Harry that the thread of smoke had grown a little thicker. The captain opened his door and stepped out on deck, glass in hand. He signalled to Suarez, who came aft at his bidding.

“Can you make her out yet, Suarez?”

“Not yet, captain, but she is headed to cross our bow and should be hull up in a few minutes.”

For five minutes both men stood with their glasses trained on the smoke. Finally Suarez dropped his to his side with the air of a man who has learned what he wished to know.

“Yes?” said the captain, interrogatively.

“It’s the little one we dodged last time.”

“The Belair. So I thought. Change the course two points to starboard. We will go astern unless she gets curious and I suppose she will. Yes, see, she is heading up for us. Hold your course; it would be folly to change it now. If we can’t bluff it through, why we can well, do the next best thing, Suarez, eh call her hand.”

Dynamite threw back his head and laughed heartily.

“Everything is in readiness for the call, sir,” said the mate, gravely.

“Very well, Suarez; tell Battersea to notify the men below to stand by.”

The boys looked at one another in mute wonder. Then there were other men below, and for what? Harry’s mind reverted to that forward compartment so well stocked with munitions of war.

“Bert,” he whispered, “I guess they were right about that danger zone, and although I’m not ‘such a mucher’ at guessing, as our friend Jenks of New York, says, maybe we’ll have that mix-up.”

For nearly an hour the quiet routine aboard the Mariella continued. The captain slowly paced the after deck, now and then scanning the oncoming stranger through his glasses. There was an air of suppressed excitement in the silence. By this time the other steamer was clearly discernible with the naked eye, and the boys could see that she was a small gunboat flying a foreign flag, which they guessed to be Spanish. She had two large guns mounted forward, and a number of rapid fire guns aft and amidships.

She was a tiny craft for a fighter and apparently had once been a pleasure yacht; but she looked saucy and dangerous as she came on toward them. As Harry looked along the quiet decks of the staid and sober Mariella he could not help comparing her to a big dignified Newfoundland dog with a snapping terrier perking boldly up to her.

They could now distinguish the forms of men on the gunboat’s decks.

“Come over here to the starboard rail, boys,” said the captain, suddenly turning to them. “You may help to carry out more successfully the little farce we are about to attempt. Show yourselves as much as possible and act as if you were curiously interested in our friend, the gunboat, as no doubt you are.”

At this moment a black-bearded little man, who had been strutting pompously on the bridge of the gunboat, raised a megaphone to his lips and a volley of foreign words, perfectly unintelligible to the boys, was shot out into the atmosphere.

In a moment the captain sent back a reply to what had evidently been a demand for a description of his ship.

“The Mariella, Boston for San Juan, Porto Rico; general merchandise and three passengers returning from school.”

“That’s us,” whispered Mason. “Look important now. This is as good as playing charades. Can you guess the word, Hal?”

For a few minutes those on the deck of the gunboat seemed to be discussing the reply. The little man on the bridge gesticulated violently as he apparently argued with a subordinate officer. Finally he put his marine glasses to his eyes again and for fully a minute Harry felt that he was studying them and Captain Dynamite, who stood facing him, his big form looming up to its full height, while a smile played around the corner of his mouth.

Suddenly the little man danced up and down like a jumping jack, shot his arms in the air and waved them wildly. Then he seized the megaphone and aimed it at the captain’s head. This time the boys could understand the words that he poured out, for he spoke in broken English.

“Ah, ah,” he shouted, “I know you now, you el Capitaine Dynamite, el filibust, el buccaneer, el pirate. Surrend surrend in Queen’s name.”

The little man’s words had an electrical effect on the captain. The smile faded away and his mouth became a set, straight line. In a moment he was all action.

“Go ahead full speed, Suarez,” he shouted. “All hands to quarters.”

In a moment his orders were transmitted from mouth to mouth and as quickly the quiet decks became transformed. Men in a seemingly endless stream rushed up through the forward hatch from below and scattered about the decks with soldier-like regularity, each taking, without the least confusion, a station to which he had apparently been assigned. Every man was armed with sword, pistol, and rifle, and almost before the boys had recovered from the first gasp of astonishment, the bulwarks were lined with rows of fully armed, determined looking men, who stood silently at their posts awaiting further orders.

George Washington Jenks stepped out of his galley, his black, shining face as usual on a broad grin. He looked aft at the boys, pointed to the gunboat and chuckled.

“George Wash Jenks is not such a bad guesser after all,” said Harry. “Mix-up has arrived all right.”

“Say, but Hal, do you think there is going to be any real fighting?” asked Bert. All of the boys were intensely excited and nervous from their unusual surroundings.

“It looks a heap like it.”

“And here we are right in the middle of it without as much as a hat pin to do business with,” moaned Mason.

The captain, who had darted into his cabin a moment before, now emerged with a cartridge belt buckled around his flannel coat and two army pistols at his sides. He carried three other pistols in his hands.

“Here, boys,” he said, as he approached them and handed one to each; “these are for protection only. Do you know how to use them?”

“Only give us something to shoot at and we will show you,” piped the Midget.

“Well, if you have to shoot, there are your marks,” was the reply, as he pointed to the gunboat.

In the meantime equal activity had been displayed on the Spaniard. Her decks swarmed with men, and over the still water was borne a jargon of unintelligible orders.

Suddenly there came a sharp command from the little man on the bridge. Dynamite understood it and raised his hand as if to warn the boys back. There was a puff of smoke at the gunboat’s bow and then a loud report.

A solid shot whistled across the bows of the Mariella and ricochetted over the water into the distance.

“Crowd on all steam, Suarez,” shouted the captain, shaking his fist at the gunboat. “We will first try the wise man’s course and run away, but if we cannot shake off that little terrier, we’ll have to show our teeth.”

Then turning to the Spaniard again he put his megaphone to his lips and shouted to the little commander, who still capered and gesticulated on the bridge:

“Yes, I am el Capitaine Dynamite. Come on and take me if you can. Viva, Cuba Libre.”