At the Fall of Port Arthur: or, A Young American in the Japanese Navy

"Tell ye what, this 'ere war between Russia and Japan 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 Japan can."

"But them Japs 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 Japanese warships 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 Japs have been a-blowin' up the Russian warships 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 ships – 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 warship 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 button on his shirt. "If you'll remember, Nagasaki was in a big state of excitement while we were there last."

"Did they say anything about any Russian warships 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 Japan."

"I don't see how they could do anything on board of this ship," 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 ship's side. As Larry passed 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 ship," he concluded. "Either you'll behave yourself, or I'll put you in irons."

"In irons!" ejaculated Semmel, scowling viciously.

"That is what I said and that is what I mean. Ever since you came on board you have been acting in this same dirty fashion and I want it stopped. Now swab up that deck, and see that you make a first-class job of it. For two pins I'd make you black Russell's shoes."

"No black nobody's shoes," growled Semmel, but in such a low tone that Captain Ponsberry could not hear him. He cleaned the deck in his own ugly, independent manner, muttering imprecations against both Larry and the captain in the meantime.

As a matter of fact, even though he had denied it to Captain Ponsberry and others, Ostag Semmel was really a Russian by birth, having been born and raised in the seaport of Kolaska. He had been drafted into the army, but not wishing to serve under a military rule which is unusually severe, he had run away to sea and become a sailor.

Life on the ocean suited Semmel very well and he would have remained away from Russia had it not been for the fact that a rich uncle had died leaving him a property valued at two thousand dollars – a small fortune in the eyes of a man of this Russian's standing. He wished to go back to claim his inheritance, but feared to do so, for he knew that once on Russian soil he would be arrested for desertion, and might be sent to a military prison for a great number of years.

From a friend in Manila he had heard of something which interested him greatly. This was the news that another deserter from the Russian army had been pardoned for his offense because he had taken home with him important news concerning the movements of a certain Japanese warship.

"If I could only do as well," he told himself, over and over again, and then, when he signed articles for the Columbia's trip, he listened eagerly to some talk he overheard about the ship's cargo. When he began to suspect the truth – that the cargo was meant for the Japanese Government – his eyes glistened cunningly.

"If I can only let Russia know of this!" he reasoned. "All will go well with me. If I can only let Russia know!"

CHAPTER IV

THE RUSSIAN SAILOR'S PLOT

Captain Ponsberry's stern manner made Ostag Semmel wild with hatred, and when he went back to the forecastle after swabbing up the deck he was in a fit mental condition for almost any dark deed.

For a good half-hour he lay in his bunk in a corner, brooding over his ill-luck and wondering what he could do to revenge himself upon both the master of the schooner and Larry. Larry he especially disliked – the very open-heartedness of the young second mate made him long to do the lad harm.

At the end of the half-hour another sailor came in. It was Carl Peterson, his close friend. Peterson was a burly tar who had visited nearly every quarter of the globe. He loved to drink and carouse, and was ever ready to lend a hand in any excitement that offered. There was a rumor that he had once led a mutiny on a Danish merchant vessel, but this he denied, laying the blame entirely on others.