CHAPTER XXIII.UNDER SEALED ORDERS.
Although the arrival of theKearsargewas news to Virginia, the visit of the huge gray fighting machine was no surprise to Minister Throgmorton. For some reason he had failed to mention the matter to his daughter, but a few days previously he had been officially notified by the state department at Washington that the warship was due to arrive in Baracoan waters on a “friendly visit.”
This information he had formally conveyed to President Portiforo. The latter was profuse in his expressions of appreciation of this courtesy. He bade the representative of the United States assure his government that a cordial welcome would be given to theKearsarge’sofficers and crew.
“But what does it mean?” he demanded informally of his friend Throgmorton. “What purpose has Washington in view? United States warships have visited us before, of course, for the reason stated; but I cannot help entertaining a suspicion that your government has some special motive in sending a battleship here at this time.”
To this the United States minister had shrugged his shoulders. “If there is any such motive, my government has not seen fit to take me into its confidence concerning it,” he answered. “However, Mr. President, if the presence of theKearsargein PuertoCabero harbor is objectionable to you, I am confident that I have only to notify the state department to that effect, and Captain Cortrell will receive orders to sail before the vessel weighs anchor.”
Portiforo, who, with a few exceptions, entertained a cordial dislike for gringos in general, and the citizens of the United States in particular, felt a strong inclination to have this brought about, but he was diplomat enough not to follow his wishes in the matter. “I wouldn’t think of being so discourteous to our sister republic,” he said. “Besides, I have no objection to theKearsarge’svisit, provided she does nothing to disrupt the amity existing between our two nations. Have you any idea how long she is to stay here?”
Throgmorton shook his head. “My advices do not state that,” he said. “If you wish, I can cable Washington that you would like to be enlightened on that point.”
“Certainly not,” the other rejoined hastily. “It is quite immaterial to me, my dear Throgmorton, how long she remains. Besides, no doubt her commander will be able to tell us what his orders are in that respect.” An anxious expression came to his face. “What kind of a man is this Captain Cortrell?” he inquired. “Can you tell me anything about him?”
“He’s one of the most competent officers in the United States navy,” the minister informed him. “He was graduated from Annapolis at the head of his class, and——”
“But his personality?” Portiforo interrupted impatiently.“I don’t care anything about his naval record. Does he impress you as being a conservative man, or—to use an expression, of your country—the kind that would take chances? If you will pardon me for saying so, I believe that some of your naval officers have in past instances proved themselves to be somewhat lacking in discretion and a proper regard for the niceties of international law.”
“Captain Cortrell is not that kind,” Minister Throgmorton replied, with a smile. “He has a reputation for being one of the most cautious and conservative commanders in our navy, and he knows more international law than half our statesmen. You need have no fear, Mr. President, that he will commit any indiscretion which would disrupt the pleasant relations existing between our respective governments.”
Somewhat reassured, the President of Baracoa made preparations to receive the visiting warship with fitting honors, and the guns of El Torro fortress thundered a vociferous welcome as the big gray ironclad steamed up the bay.
The Camera Chap was cruising in the harbor in his motor boat when theKearsargearrived. With keen interest he watched the colossal fighting machine come to anchor. A thrill of joy and pride shot through him as his eyes feasted on her grim gray outline, and there came to his ears the strains of the ship’s band crashing out “The Star-spangled Banner.”
Remembering his conversation with the president, in which the latter had given him clearly to understand that, win or lose, he could expect no help fromthe United States government, he felt that he had no reason to believe that the arrival of the battleship had anything to do with himself and his mission; yet he could not help hoping that such was the case—that something had occurred to change the presidential mind as to the impossibility of governmental succor being extended to him. Not that he craved such protection for himself; he was quite willing to take his chances, and abide by the consequences of the adventure; but he was in hopes that the arrival of theKearsargeat Puerto Cabero might have something to do with a plan to protect Felix from Portiforo’s vengeance. This desire caused him to seek admission to the battleship almost as soon as she had dropped anchor.
As he climbed the starboard gangway, a natty young officer stared hard at him, and exclaimed:
“I beg your pardon, but isn’t your name Hawley?”
“It is,” the Camera Chap replied, with a smile. “And you are Ensign Ridder, unless I am very much mistaken.”
“Lieutenant Ridder,” the other corrected pleasantly, with some pride. “But I was an ensign the last time we met. That was three years ago, when I was attached to the Brooklyn Navy Yard.” His face broke into a broad grin. “I shall never forget, old man, how you came to my rescue that night down in Chinatown, when that gang had me backed up against the wall, and was——” He stopped short, suddenly realizing that this was scarcely the time or place to indulge in personal reminiscences. “I beg yourpardon,” he said soberly. “Perhaps you wish to see somebody on board?”
“I’d like to have a talk with the captain, if he isn’t too busy,” the Camera Chap answered.
“He’s pretty busy, but I think he’ll see you,” said Lieutenant Ridder, emphasizing the pronoun. “As a matter of fact,” he added, “he’s expecting you.”
“Expecting me!” Hawley echoed, thrilling with joy as he realized the significance of this announcement.
“He’s given orders that if a man named Hawley should happen to come aboard, he’s to be taken to his cabin at once,” the naval officer confided in a whisper.
“Great!” exclaimed the Camera Chap. “That’s the best news I’ve heard in a long while.”
Thanks to his acquaintance with Lieutenant Ridder, the visitor had no trouble in establishing his identity to the satisfaction of the battleship’s commander.
“I am glad to meet you, Mr. Hawley,” the latter said. Then, abruptly: “I believe you were to bring a photograph. Have you got it?”
“Not yet, captain,” the Camera Chap replied, “but I expect to get it soon, and——”
The commander of the battleship cut him short with an impatient gesture. It may have been his imagination, but Hawley fancied that the expression on his weather-beaten face was one of keen disappointment. “My orders say nothing about expectations, sir,” he said gruffly. “Whenever you get that snapshot, Mr. Hawley,” he added, “I shall be glad to see you again.”
The Camera Chap did not attempt to ask any questions. He could tell from the taciturn old sea dog’s manner that they would not be answered. Besides, he had found out what he wished to know. From the reference the captain had made to his orders, he felt absolutely sure, now, that the arrival of the warship was more than a coincidence—that the huge mass of steel, manned by as sturdy a crew as ever trod a deck, and bristling with guns powerful enough to smash El Torro fortress to smithereens, and reduce Puerto Cabero to ruins, was there to help in some way to right a great wrong.
It was then that he had made up his mind to carry out that same night the daring plan which he had afterward described to Virginia Throgmorton. But he did not tell his fair ally of his visit to the battleship. There were reasons why he deemed it wise to keep that incident a secret even from her.
As his visitor walked out of his cabin, Captain Cortrell took from a drawer of his desk a bulky envelope, and regarded it with speculative interest.
This envelope was sealed, and Captain Cortrell himself had never seen its contents. His verbal instructions were to anchor in Puerto Cabero harbor, and to remain there until further orders. The sealed envelope was not to be opened unless he should receive a visit from a man who could identify himself as a New York newspaper man named Frank Hawley. In the event of such an identification being established, the commander was to demand of his visitor whether he had brought a certain photograph. If thereply was in the affirmative, and the photograph forthcoming, Captain Cortrell was then to open the sealed envelope immediately, and compare the photograph it contained with the snapshot which his visitor had brought. If he was satisfied that the original of both pictures was the same, he was to proceed to carry out forthwith the written instructions which accompanied the picture.
What these secret orders were, the commander of the battleship had not the remotest idea; nor was he aware whose photograph was inside the envelope. It was felt by his superiors that there was no need for him to know these things until the time to act arrived. He did know, however, that the contents of the envelope had been placed there by the President of the United States himself.
Captain Cortrell was not naturally a curious man. It was largely because the bump of inquisitiveness was missing from his cranium that he had been selected for this mysterious mission; but when he had told his visitor that he was glad to meet him, he had never in his life spoken more earnestly, for his fingers were just itching to open that envelope. He had been wondering greatly, too, what manner of chap this young man named Hawley must be, that the head of the nation was willing to go to so much trouble on his account. It was the first time in his experience that he had heard of a United States battleship being dispatched under sealed orders to foreign waters to aid a newspaper photographer in his work. He had looked forward with eagerness to the time whenthe president’s photographic envoy should choose to put in an appearance. For his instructions did not permit him to seek the latter out. He must wait until he came aboard of his own initiative. Evidently it had been taken for granted at the White House that the Camera Chap would come to the battleship without an invitation being extended to him. The logical mind responsible for these arrangements had foreseen that in the event of his landing the photographic evidence of Portiforo’s rascality, it would naturally occur to him to seek refuge immediately in the safest place for him within a thousand miles of San Cristobal—the deck of a ship of war flying the Stars and Stripes.