Ray's Daughter: A Story of Manila Page 2

  CHAPTER II.

  It was just after sunset when, for the second time, the hot boxes of therecruit car had been treated to liberal libations from the water-tank,and the belated train again moved on.

  Dinner had been ready in the dining-car a full hour, but so long as thesickening smell of burning waste arose from the trucks immediately infront very few of the passengers seemed capable of eating. The car, as aconsequence, was crowded towards eight o'clock, and the steward andwaiters were busy men.

  The evening air, drifting in through open windows, was cooler than ithad been during the day, but still held enough of the noontide caloricto make fans a comfort, and Mr. Stuyvesant, dining at a "four-in-hand"table well to the front, and attempting to hold his own in a somewhatdesultory talk with his fellow-men, found himself paying far moreattention to the lovely face of the girl across the aisle than to theviands set before him.

  She was seated facing the front, and opposite the austere maidenpreviously mentioned. Conversation had already begun, and now Stuyvesantwas able to see that, beautiful in feature as was her face in repose,its beauty was far enhanced when animated and smiling.

  When to well-nigh perfect external features there is added the charm offaultlessly even and snowy teeth and a smile that illumines the entireface, shining in the eyes as it plays about the pretty, sensitive mouth,a young woman is fully equipped for conquest.

  Stuyvesant gazed in fascination uncontrollable. He envied the prim,precise creature who sat unbending, severe, and, even while keeping up asemblance of interest in the conversation, seemed to feel it a duty todisplay disapprobation of such youthful charms.

  No woman is so assured that beauty is only skin deep as she who has noneof it. Her manner, therefore, had been decidedly stiff, and from thathad imperceptibly advanced to condescension, but when the stewardpresently appeared with a siphon of iced seltzer, and, bowingdeferentially, said he hoped everything was to Miss Ray's liking, andadded that it seemed a long time since they had seen the captain andsupposed he must be a colonel now, the thin eyebrows of the tall maidenwere uplifted into little arches that paralleled the furrows of her browas she inquired:

  "Miss Ray?--from Fort Leavenworth?"

  The answer was a smiling nod of assent as the younger lady buried herlovely, dark face in the flowers set before her by the assiduous waiter,and Stuyvesant felt sure she was trying to control an inclination tolaugh.

  "Well, you must excuse me if I have been a little--slow," said the elderin evident perturbation. "You see--we meet such queer peopletravelling--sometimes. Don't you find it so?"

  The dark face was dimpling now with suppressed merriment.

  "Yes--occasionally," was the smiling answer.

  "But then, being the daughter of an army officer," pursued the otherhurriedly, "you have to travel a great deal. I suppose you really--haveno home?" she essayed in the half-hopeful tone to be expected of one whoconsidered that a being so endowed by nature must suffer somecompensatory discomforts.

  "Yes and--no," answered Miss Ray urbanely. "In one sense we army girlshave no home. In another, we have homes everywhere."

  It is a reproach in the eyes of certain severe moralists that afellow-being should be so obviously content with his or her lot. Theelder woman seemed to feel it a duty to acquaint this beaming creaturewith the manifest deficiency in her moral make-up.

  "Yes, but I should think most any one would rather have a real home, aplace where they weren't bounden to anybody, no matter if it was homely."(She called it "humbly," and associated it in mind with the words ofPayne's immortal song.) "Now, when I went to see Colonel Ray about oursociety, he told me he had to break up everything, going to Cuba, but hedidn't mention about your going West."

  "Father was a little low in his mind that day," said Miss Ray, a shadeof sadness passing over her face. "Both my brothers are in the service,and one is barely seventeen."

  "Out at service!" interrupted the other. "You don't mean----"

  "No," was the laughing answer, and in Miss Ray's enjoyment of thesituation her eyes came perilously near seeking those of Mr. Stuyvesant,which she well knew were fixed upon her. "I mean that both are in thearmy."

  "Well--I thought not--still--I didn't know. It's all rather new to me,this dealin' with soldiers, but I suppose I'll get to know all about itafter a spell. Our society's getting much encouraged."

  "Red Cross?" queried Miss Ray, with uplifted brows and evident interest,yet a suspicion of incredulity.

  "Well, same thing, only _we_ don't propose to levy contributions rightand left like they do. I am vice-president of the Society of PatrioticDaughters of America, you know. I thought perhaps your father mighthave told you. And our association is self-sustaining, at least itwill be as soon as we are formally recognized by the government. Youknow the Red Cross hasn't any real standing, whereas our folks expectthe President to issue the order right away, making us part of theregular hospital brigade. Now, your father was very encouraging, thoughsome officers we talked to were too stuck up to be decent. When Icalled on General Drayton he just as much as up and told me we'd onlybe in the way."

  Just here, it must be owned, Miss Ray found it necessary to dive underthe table for a handkerchief which she had not dropped.

  Mr. Stuyvesant, ignoring the teachings of his childhood and gazing overthe rim of his coffee-cup, observed that she was with difficultyconcealing her merriment. Then, all of a sudden, her face, that had beenso full of radiance, became suddenly clouded by concern and distress.The door at the head of the car had swung suddenly open and remained so,despite the roar and racket of the wheels and the sweep of dust andcinders down the aisle. The steward glanced up from his cupboardopposite the kitchen window at the rear, and quickly motioned to someone to shut that door. A waiter sprang forward, and then came thesteward himself. The look in the girl's face was enough for Stuyvesant.He whirled about to see what had caused it, and became instantly awareof a stout-built soldier swaying uneasily at the entrance and in thicktones arguing with the waiter. He saw at a glance the man had beendrinking, and divined he was there to get more liquor. He was on thepoint of warning the steward to sell him none, but was saved thetrouble. The steward bent down and whispered:

  "This makes the second time he's come in since six o'clock. I refused tolet him have a drop. Can't something be done to keep him out? We can'tlock the door, you know, sir."

  Stuyvesant quickly arose and stepped up the aisle. By this timeeverybody was gazing towards the front entrance in concern andcuriosity. The colored waiter was still confronting the soldier asthough to prevent his coming farther into the car. The soldier, withflushed and sodden face and angry eyes, had placed a hand on the broadshoulder of the servant and was clumsily striving to put him aside.

  Stuyvesant's tall, athletic figure suddenly shut both from view. Neverhesitating, he quickly elbowed the negro out of the way, seized thedoorknob with his left hand, throwing the door wide open, then, lookingthe soldier full in the face, pointed to the tourist car with the other.

  "Go back at once," was all he said.

  The man had been hardly six days in service, and had learned little ofarmy life or ways. He was a whole American citizen, however, if he washalf drunk, and the average American thinks twice before he obeys amandate of any kind. This one coming from a tall young swell wasespecially obnoxious.

  The uniform as yet had little effect on Recruit Murray. Where he hailedfrom the sight of it had for years provoked only demonstrations ofderision and dislike. He didn't know who the officer was--didn't want toknow--didn't care. What he wanted was whiskey, and so long as the moneywas burning in his pocket he knew no reason why he shouldn't have it.Therefore, instead of obeying, he stood there, sullen and swaying,scowling up as though in hate and defiance into the grave, set youngface. Another second and the thing was settled. Stuyvesant's right handgrasped the blue collar at the throat, the long, slender fingersgripping tight, and half shot, half lifted the amazed recruit across theswaying platform and into the reelin
g car ahead. There he plumped hiscaptive down into a seat and sent for the corporal. Connelly came,rubbing his eyes, and took in the situation at a glance.

  "I ordered him not to leave the car three hours ago, sir," he quicklyspoke. "But after supper I got drowsy and fell asleep in my section.Then he skinned out. I'd iron him, sir, if I had anything of the kind."

  "No," said Stuyvesant, "don't think of that. Just keep a watch over himand forbid his leaving the section. No, sir, none of that," he added, asin drunken dignity Murray was searching for a match to light his pipeand hide his humiliation. "There must be no smoking in this flimsy car,corporal. A spark would set fire to it in a second."

  "Them was my orders, sir. This fellow knows it as well as I do. But he'sgiven trouble one way or other ever since we started. You hear thatagain, now, Murray: no drink; no smoke. I'll see to it that he doesn'tquit the car again, sir," he concluded, turning appealingly to the youngofficer, and Stuyvesant, taking a quiet look up and down the dimlylighted, dusty aisle, was about to return to the "diner," when Murraystruggled to his feet. Balked in his hope of getting more drink, anddefrauded, as in his muddled condition it seemed to him, of the solaceof tobacco, the devil in him roused to evil effort by the vile liquorprocured surreptitiously somewhere along the line, the time had come forhim, as he judged, to assert himself before his fellows and provehimself a man.

  "You think you're a better man than I am," he began thickly, glaringsavagely at the young officer. "But I'll be even with you, young fellow.I'll----" And here ended the harangue, for, one broad hand clapped overthe leering mouth and the other grasping the back of his collar,Corporal Connelly jammed him down on the seat with a shock that shookthe car.

  "Shut up, you drunken fool!" he cried. "Don't mind him, lieutenant.He's only a day at the depot, sir. Sit still, you blackguard, or I'llsmash you!"--this to Murray, who, half suffocated, was writhing in hiseffort to escape. "A--ch!" he cried, with sudden wrenching away of thebrawny hand, "the beast has bitten me," and the broad palm, drippingwith blood, was held up to the light.

  Deeply indented, there were the jagged marks of Murray's teeth.

  "Here, Foster, Hunt, grab this man and don't let him stir, hand or foot.See what you get for giving a drunkard money. Grab him, I say!" shoutedConnelly, grinning with mingled pain and wrath as the lieutenant led himto the wash-stand.

  Another recruit, a stalwart fellow, who had apparently seen previousservice, sprang to the aid of the first two named, and between them,though he stormed and struggled a moment, the wretch was jammed and heldin his corner.

  Stanching the blood as best he could and bandaging the hand with his ownkerchief, Stuyvesant bade the corporal sit at an open window a moment,for he looked a trifle faint and sick,--it was a brutal bite. ButConnelly was game.

  "That blackguard's got to be taught there's a God in Israel," heexclaimed, as he turned back to the rear of the car. "I beg thelieutenant's pardon, but--he is not in the regular army, I see," with aglance at the collar of the young officer's blouse. "We sometimes gethard cases to deal with, and this is one of them. This kind of a curwouldn't hesitate to shoot an officer in the back or stab him in thedark if he didn't like him. I hope the lieutenant may never be botheredwith him again. No, damn you!" he added between his set teeth, as helooked down at the sullen, scowling prisoner, "what you ought to have isa good hiding, and what you'll get, if you give any more trouble, is aroping, hand and foot. We ought to have irons on a trip like this,lieutenant," he continued, glancing up into the calm, refined face ofthe young soldier. "But I can get a rope, if you say so, and tie him inhis berth."

  "I have no authority in the matter," said Stuyvesant reflectively. "Noone has but you, that I know of. Perhaps he'll be quiet when he coolsdown," and the lieutenant looked doubtfully at the semi-savage in thesection nearest the door.

  "He'll give no more trouble this night, anyhow," said Connelly, as theofficer turned to go. "And thank you, sir, for this," and he held up thebandaged hand. "But I'll keep my eyes peeled whenever he's abouthereafter, and you'll be wise to do the same, sir."

  For one instant, as the lieutenant paused at the door-way and lookedback, the eyes of the two men met, his so brave and blue and clear; theother's--Murray's--furtive, blood-shot, and full of hate. Then the doorslammed and Stuyvesant was gone.

  Twice again that night he visited the recruit car. At ten o'clock, afterenjoying for an hour or more the sight of Miss Ray in animated chat withtwo of the six women passengers of the sleeper, and the sound of herpleasant voice, Stuyvesant wandered into the diner for a glass of coolBudweiser.

  "That's an ugly brute of a fellow that bit your corporal, sir," said thesteward. "I was in there just now, and he's as surly as a cur dog yet."

  Stuyvesant nodded without a word. He was in a petulant frame of mind. Hewanted "worst kind," as he would have expressed it, to know that girl,but not a glance would she give him. She owed him one, thought he, forletting that rabbit go. Moreover, being an army girl, as he had learned,she should not be so offish with an officer.

  Then the readiness with which the corporal had "spotted" him as avolunteer, as not a regular, occurred to him, and added to his faintlyirritable mood. True, his coat-collar bore the tell-tale letters U. S.V., but he had served some years with one of the swellest of swellEastern regiments, whose set-up and style were not excelled by theregulars, whose officers prided themselves upon their dress and bearing.

  If it was because he was not of the regular service that Miss Ray wouldnot vouchsafe him a glance, Mr. Stuyvesant was quite ready to bid herunderstand he held himself as high as any soldier in her father's famouscorps. If it was not that, then what in blazes was it?

  He knew that in travelling cross continent in this way it was consideredthe proper thing for an officer of the regular army to send his card bythe porter to the wife or daughter of any brother officer who might beaboard, and to tender such civilities as he would be glad to have paidhis own were he so provided. He wondered whether it would do to send hispasteboard with a little note to the effect that he had once met ColonelRay at the United Service Club, and would be glad to pay his respects tothe colonel's daughter.

  It was an unusual thing for Mr. Stuyvesant to quaff beer at any time,except after heavy exercise at polo or tennis, but to-night he wasruffled, and when the porter began making up the berths and dames anddamsels disappeared, he had wandered disconsolately into the diner andordered beer as his excuse. Then he crossed the platform and entered thetourist.

  The night was hot and close. The men were lying two in a berth, as arule, the upper berths not being used.

  One or two, Murray among them, had not removed their trousers, but mostof them were stretched out in their undergarments, while others,chatting in low tones, were watching the brakeman turning down thelights. They made way respectfully as the lieutenant entered. Connellycame to meet him and nodded significantly at Murray, who lay in a berthnear the middle of the car, still carefully watched by Hunt. Foster,wearied, had turned in, and, with his face to the window, seemed to havefallen asleep. The conductor came through, lantern in hand.

  "It's the quietest and best behaved lot, barring that chap, I evercarried," said he to Stuyvesant. "But he's wicked enough for a dozen.Wonder he don't go to sleep."

  "Humph! says he wants a bottle of beer," grunted Connelly. "Can't get tosleep without it. I wouldn't give it to him if I had a kag."

  "He doesn't deserve it, of course," said the conductor. "What he oughtto have is an all-around licking. But I've known beer to have a soothingeffect on men who'd been drinking, and it might put him to sleep andsave bother."

  "Let him have it," said Stuyvesant briefly. "I'll send it in by thesteward. And, corporal, if you or any of your men would like it, I'll beglad----"

  Some two or three looked quickly and expectantly up, as though theymight like it very much, but Corporal Connelly said he "dassent," he"never took a drink of anything on duty since three years ago comeFourth of July." So the others were abashed and wo
uld not ask. Olderhands would not have held their tongues.

  To Murray's surprise, a brimming glass of cool beer was presentlyoffered him. He gulped it thirstily down, and without a word held outthe glass for more. A grinning waiter obliged him with what remained inthe bottle. Murray asked if that was all, then, with something like agrunt of dissatisfaction, rolled heavily over and turned his face to thewall.

  "Well, of all the ungrateful cads I ever seen," said Hunt, "you're theworst! D'ye know who sent that beer, Murray? It was the young officeryou insulted." But Murray's only answer at the moment was a demand thatHunt shut up and let him go to sleep.

  The last thing Stuyvesant remembered before dozing off was that thesmell of those journal-boxes was getting worse. At two in the morning,in the heart of the desert, the conductor had made his way through thetrain and remarked that, despite that unpleasant odor, every man of therecruit detachment was sound asleep. In a berth next the door thesteward of the dining-car had found room, and the entire car seemedwrapped in repose.

  Five minutes later by the watch, it was wrapped in flames.

  Speaking of the matter later in the morning, the brakeman said it didn'tseem ten seconds after he had pulled the bell-rope and given the alarmbefore Lieutenant Stuyvesant, a tall, slim figure in pajamas andslippers, came bounding to his aid.

  The flames even then were bursting from under the steps and platform,the dense smoke pouring from the rear door of the recruit car, andcoughing, choking, blinded, staggering, some of them scorched andblistered, most of them clad only in undershirt and drawers, theluckless young troopers came groping forth and were bundled on into theinterior of the diner. Some in their excitement strove to leap from thetrain before it came to its bumping, grinding halt. Some were screamingin pain and panic. Only one, Hunt, was dressed throughout in uniform.

  The steward of the diner, nearly suffocated before being dragged out ofhis berth, was making vain effort to shove a way back into the blazingcar, crying that all his money was under that pillow. But it wasimpossible to stem the torrent of human forms.

  The instant the train stopped, the flames shot upward through theskylight and ventilator, and then the voice of Connelly was heardyelling for aid. Seizing a blanket that had been dragged after him bysome bewildered recruit, and throwing it over his head and shoulders,Stuyvesant, bending low, dove headlong into the dense wall of smoke.

  The flames came leaping and lapping out from the door-way the instant hedisappeared, and a groan of dismay arose from the little group alreadygathered at the side of the track. Five, ten seconds of awful suspense,and then, bending lower still, his loose clothing afire, his hair andeyebrows singed, his face black with soot and smoke and seared by flame,the young officer came plunging forth, dragging by the legs a prostrate,howling man, and after them, blind and staggering, came Connelly.

  Eager hands received and guided the rescuers, leading them into thediner, while the trainmen worked the stiff levers, broke loose thecoupling, and swung their lanterns in frantic signals to the engineer,far ahead.

  Another moment and the blazing car was drawn away, run up the track ahundred yards, and left to illumine the night and burn to ashes, whilemale passengers swarmed about the dining-car, proffering stimulant andconsolation.

  Besides Stuyvesant and Corporal Connelly, two soldiers were seriouslyburned. Every stitch of clothing not actually on their persons at themoment of their escape was already consumed, and with it every ounce oftheir soldier rations and supplies.

  The men least injured were those who, being nearest the rear door, werefirst to escape. The men worst burned were those longest held within theblazing car, barring one, Murray, whom Hunt had thoughtfully bound handand foot as he slept, reasoning that in that way only might hisguardians enjoy a like blessing.

  Connelly had tripped over the roaring bully as he lay on his back in theaisle. Stuyvesant had rushed in, and between them they dragged him to aplace of safety. There, his limbs unbound, his tongue unloosed, Murrayindulged in a blast of malediction on the road, the company, thegovernment, his comrades, even his benefactors, and then thoughtfullydemanded drink. There was no longer a stern corporal to forbid, forConnelly, suffering and almost sightless, had been led into a rearcoach. But there was no longer money with which to buy, for Foster'slast visible cent had gone up in smoke and flame, and, scorched andsmarting in a dozen places, wrapped in a blanket in lieu of clothes, thedark-eyed young soldier sat, still trembling from excitement, by theroadside.

  It was three hours before the wreck could be cleared, another carprocured, and the recruits bundled into it. Then, as dawn was spreadingover the firmament, the train pushed on, and the last thing GerardStuyvesant was conscious of before, exhausted, he dropped off totroubled sleep, was that a soft, slender hand was renewing the coolbandage over his burning eyes, and that he heard a passenger say "Thatlittle brunette--that little Miss Ray--was worth the hull carload ofwomen put together. She just went in and nursed and bandaged the burnedmen like as though they'd been her own brothers."

  Certainly the young lady had been of particular service in the case ofConnelly and one of the seriously injured recruits. She had donesomething for every man whose burns deserved attention, with a singleexception.

  Recruit Foster had declared himself in need of no aid, and with his faceto the wall lay well out of sight.