Ray's Daughter: A Story of Manila Read online

  CHAPTER VI.

  When Vinton's flotilla drew out into that wonderful bay, and the crowdedtransports rode at anchor on the tide, there came swarming about themall manner of harbor craft, some laden with comforts for the departingsoldiery, some with curiosity seekers, some with contraband of war inthe shape of fruit and fluids, but all were warned to keep a cable'slength at least away.

  The commanding general, with other officers of rank, was darting fromship to ship in a swift steam launch, holding brief conference with thecolonel in command of each, and finally repairing to his own--theflagship--where the final adieux were exchanged.

  The general and his aides nimbly mounted the steep stairway to thebridge, the launch swung loose, and then up to the mast-head flew alittle bunch of bunting that broke as it reached the truck, and therefluttered in the strong salt wind whistling in from sea the eagerlyawaited signal to "up anchor and follow."

  And then at the stern of the Vanguard the waves were churned into foamas the massive screw began its spin, and slowly, steadily the flagshipforged ahead to the accompaniment of a deafening din of steam whistlesand sirens all over the bay. Promptly the other transports followed themovements of the leader, and presently, in trailing column, five bigblack steamships, thronged with cheering soldiery, were slowly ploughingtheir way towards the grand entrance of that spacious harbor, thematchless Golden Gate.

  Coming abreast of rock-ribbed Alcatraz, still moving at less than halfspeed, the flagship was greeted by the thunder of the parting salute,and the commanding general, standing with his staff upon the bridge,doffed his cap and bared his handsome head in acknowledgment.

  "The next guns we're apt to hear will be the Spaniard's at Manila, andshotted guns instead of blanks," said a staff officer to the tall,fair-haired aide-de-camp. "What's the matter, Stuyvesant? Beginning tofeel wabbly already? There's no sea here to speak of."

  "I was watching that boat," was the quiet reply, as the young officerpointed to a small white steamer that appeared coming in pursuit,carefully picking a way through the host of harbor craft stillscreeching and steaming along as escort to the fleet.

  There was an eager light in the bright blue eyes, but the high color hadfled. Stuyvesant looked as though he had not slept as much or as well oflate as perfect health required, and his questioner gazed keenly intohis face, then turned away with a smile.

  Only three days before, on the register of the Occidental appeared amongthe arrivals the entry "Mrs. William P. Ray, Miss Ray, FortLeavenworth," and that evening at least a dozen officers called and sentup their cards, and Lieutenant Ray came in from the Presidio and waswith his mother and sister an hour or more.

  The ladies held quite a little levee in the parlor of the familiar oldarmy hostelry, and Mr. Stuyvesant, after a long and fatiguing day's dutyat camp, accompanied his general to their very handsome apartments atThe Palace, and then falteringly asked if he might be excused awhile--hehad a call or two to make.

  The evening papers had announced the arrival of the wife and daughter of"the gallant officer so well known for quarter of a century gone by tomany of our citizens--Captain 'Billy' Ray, now colonel of the --thKentucky," and Stuyvesant had determined to make an effort to meet them.But he was a stranger to the officers who called and sent up theircards--all old regulars.

  Lieutenant Ray was with the party in the parlor, and Stuyvesant felt astrange shyness when striving to persuade himself to send his card tothat young officer and boldly ask to be presented. Surely it was theproper thing to seek and meet her and thank her for her deftministrations the night of the fire. Surely a man of his distinguishedfamily and connections need not shrink from asking to be introduced toany household in all our broad domain, and yet Stuyvesant found himselfnervous and hesitant, wandering about the crowded office, makingpretense of interest in posters and pictures, wistfully regarding thejovial knots of regulars who seemed so thoroughly at home.

  Over at The Palace, where so many of the general officers and theirstaffs were quartered, he had dozens of friends. Here at this favoriteold resort of the regular service he stood alone, and to his proud andsensitive spirit it seemed as though there were a barrier between himand these professional soldiers.

  There was the whole secret of his trouble. Absurd and trivial as it mayseem, Stuyvesant shrank from the enterprise, even at the verythreshold,--shrank even from sending his card and asking for LieutenantRay, for no other or better reason than that he did not know how avolunteer would be welcomed.

  And so for nearly half an hour he hovered irresolute about the office,unconscious of the many glances of interest and admiration from the keeneyes of the officers gathered in laughing groups about the marbledfloor. Not one of their number was his superior in form and feature, andhis uniform was the handiwork of Gotham's best military tailor. _They_saw that the instant he threw off his cape.

  One of their number whispered that it was Mr. Stuyvesant, GeneralVinton's aide, for everybody knew Vinton, and more than one would havebeen glad to take the aide-de-camp by the hand and bid him welcome totheir coterie but for that same odd shyness that, once away from camp orgarrison and in the atmosphere of metropolitan life, seems to clog andhamper the kindlier impulses of the soldier.

  Presently, as Stuyvesant stood at the desk looking over the register, heheard himself accosted by name, and turning quickly, hopefully, found tohis disappointment only a stocky little man in civilian dress. Yet theface was familiar, and the trouble in the honest brown eyes looking upto him, as though for help and sympathy, went right to his heart. Evenbefore the man could give his name or tell his need, Stuyvesant knew himand held out a cordial hand:

  "Why! You're our brakeman! I'm glad to see you. What's wrong?"

  "I've lost me job, sir," was the answer, with a little choke. "They letme out two days ago--for sayin' their rotten old car caught fire fromthe boxes, I reckon."

  "You don't tell me!" exclaimed Stuyvesant in honest indignation. "Now,how can I help you? What shall we do?"

  "Take me to Manila, sir. I don't need this place. There's no onedependent on me--I can't soldier. They won't 'list a fellow with onlytwo fingers," and he held up a maimed hand. "Lost the others in afreight smash-up six years ago. But there's a railway out there that'llbe ours in a few months. Then you'll want Yankee train-hands. Can youdo that much for me, lieutenant?"

  "Come to me at The Palace at eight o'clock in the morning," answeredStuyvesant. "I'll have had a chance to talk to my general by that time.Meanwhile"--and with a blush he began drawing forth his purse.

  The brakeman smiled. "I've got money enough, sir. They paid me off and Ihad some put by. Thank you all the same, Mr. Stuyvesant.--Oh, yes, sir,I'm ready," he broke off suddenly in addressing some other person, andStuyvesant, turning quickly to see, was confronted by Lieutenant Ray.

  "Oh, how-de-do? Going to be here long?" promptly queried that younggentleman. "Haven't seen you since the night at the Presidio. 'Scuse me,will you, I've got to take--er--my sister wants to see the brakeman, youknow.--With you the night of the fire." And with that Mr. Ray hoppedbriskly away to the elevator, the ex-trainman following, leavingStuyvesant standing enviously at the counter.

  Even a brakeman could go to her and hear her pleasant words and receivethat beaming smile and perhaps a clasp of that cool, slender littlehand, while he who so longed for it all stood without the pale.

  Then an impulse that had been spurring him for half an hour overmasteredhim. The parlors were public. At least he could go and take a peep ather.

  He started for the elevator, then changed his plan, turned, and, withhis cape still thrown over his arm, ascended the stairs. The clerk atthe office desk glanced curiously at him, but the uniform wassufficient. In a moment he found himself in the broad corridor andalmost in front of the door-way to the parlor. Half a dozen groups,women and officers, were scattered about in merry conversation, butStuyvesant's eyes were riveted instantly on a little party close by theelevator shaft. There, hat in hand, bowing and blushing, stood the
brakeman. There, with a bright, genial smile on her serene and happyface, stood a matronly woman who, despite her soft blue eyes and fairhair and complexion, was patent at once as the mother of the lovely,dark-eyed girl and the trim young soldier who formed the other membersof the group.

  Three or four officers, some of them past the meridian, others youngsubalterns, stood looking on in evident interest, and Stuyvesant haltedspellbound, not knowing just what to do.

  It was over in a moment. The railwayman, confused but happy, hadevidently been the recipient of kind and appreciative words, for hisface was glowing, and Miss Ray's fairly beamed with the radiance of itssmile. Then the door flew open as the elevator-car stopped forpassengers, and the ex-brakeman backed in and disappeared from view.Then the mother twined an arm about her daughter's slender waist and twoyoung officers sprang forward to her side. Together they came saunteringtowards the parlor door, and then, all on a sudden, she looked up andsaw him.

  There was no mistaking the flash of instant recognition in her beautifuleyes. Stuyvesant's heart leaped as his eager gaze met the swift glance,and noted with joy that she certainly saw and knew him: more than that,that the sight gave her pleasure. But in another instant she hadrecovered herself, and turned to ask some quick question of the younggallant at her side, and Stuyvesant, who was almost at the point ofbowing low, found himself savagely hating those yellow straps andstripes and wishing the cavalry in perdition. Somebody was speaking toMr. Ray, and he couldn't catch that young officer's eye. The partystopped a moment at the threshold, one of the officers was sayinggood-night, and then a voice at Stuyvesant's elbow said "Which isLieutenant Ray?" It was the bell-boy.

  A sudden inspiration came to Stuyvesant. "What is it?" he said. "Haveyou a message for him?"

  "Yes," was the answer. "They're telephoning for him from thePresidio,--want him to come at once."

  "Tell me the whole message and I'll give it," said Stuyvesant. "Anythingwrong?"

  "Yes, sir. The clerk's at the 'phone now, but I couldn't get thetrouble. Something's broke loose, as I understand it."

  And that delay was fatal. Bounding up the steps, three at a stride, camea young officer, breathless, and made straight for the group. Seeingthat Mrs. Ray and Miss Marion were close at hand, he paused one moment,then with significant gesture called Ray to his side. Then Stuyvesantcould not but hear every word of the sudden and startling message.

  "Ray, you're wanted at the barracks at once. Prisoners 'scaped and yourhouse is robbed!"

  Stuyvesant ran beside him as Ray went bounding down the stairs and outinto Montgomery Street.

  "Can I be of any service? Can I help you some way?" he urged, for he sawthe young officer was looking white and anxious. But Ray hurriedlythanked him and declined. He could not imagine, he said, what his lossmight be, yet something told him if anybody had escaped it was thathulking sinner Murray.

  He sprang upon the first street-car at the corner, waved his hand inparting, and was whisked away westward, leaving Stuyvesant standingdisconsolate.

  How now could he hope to meet her? The clerk at the office seemedfriendly and sympathetic when Stuyvesant wandered back there, and gavehim such particulars of the situation at the Presidio as he had beenable to gather over the wire. It seemed that a rumor had reached thecommanding officer that a number of tools had been smuggled into theguard-house by the prisoners, and by the aid of these they hoped to cuttheir way out. Despite the fact that it was growing dark, a search ofthe prison room and cells was ordered while the prisoners stood in linein front awaiting the usual evening inspection. There was no one to telljust who started it or how, but, all on a sudden, while many of theguard were aiding in the search inside, the whole array of prisoners,regular and volunteer, old and young, except those few in irons, made asudden and simultaneous dash for liberty, scattering in every direction.Some had already been recaptured, but at least twenty-five were still atlarge, and the post adjutant, telephoning for Ray, briefly added thatthere was every evidence that his quarters had been robbed.

  All this Stuyvesant heard with an absorbing interest, wondering whetherit might not be possible to make it a plea or pretext on which topresent himself to Mrs. Ray, and then ask to be presented to herdaughter. A second time he ascended the stairs and, sauntering by,peered in at the parlor-door. Yes, there sat the charming matron lookingso winsome and kind as she smiled upon her circle of visitors, but,alas, they were four in number and all officers of rank in the regularservice, and Stuyvesant's shyness again overcame him.

  Moreover, his brief glance into the brightly lighted apartment, alldecorated as it was with flags and flowers, revealed Miss Ray seatednear the window with two young cavalrymen in devoted attendance--allthree apparently so absorbed in their chat that he, lonely and wistful,escaped observation entirely until, just as he passed from view, herlovely dark eyes were for an instant quickly raised, and though he knewit not, she saw him, and saw too that he was wandering aimlessly about,but, quick as woman's intuition, her eyes returned to the face of theeager young trooper by her side, for Stuyvesant turned for one morelonging glance before descending, defeated, to the office floor.

  It was his last opportunity, and fate seemed utterly against him, forwhen on the following evening his general went to call upon Mrs. Ray andtook his handsome and hopeful aide, "The ladies are out," said thebell-boy. They were dining at the adjutant-general's.

  In desperation, Stuyvesant went over to a florist's on Post Street,bought a box of superb roses, and sent them with his card to Miss Ray,expressing deep regret that he had been denied opportunity to thank herin person for her kindness to him the night of the fire. He wanted tosay that he owed his eyes to her, but felt that she knew better andwould be more offended than pleased.

  He was to sail on the morrow, and he had not even seen her brotheragain.

  But the department commander had said he purposed coming out with aparty of friends to run alongside the flag-ship as she steamed slowlyout to sea, and that was why Mr. Stuyvesant stood so eagerly watchingthe ploughing side-wheeler so swiftly coming in pursuit. Already he hadmade out the double stars in the bunting at the jack-staff. Already hecould distinguish the forms of several general officers whose commandswere not yet ready for embarkation and the fluttering garments of ascore of women.

  Something told him she would be of the party, and as the Vanguard sloweddown to let the head-quarters' boat run alongside, his heart beateagerly when his general said: "We'll go down, gentlemen, and board her.It'll be much easier than the climb would be to them."

  So it happened that five minutes later he found himself at the heels ofhis chief shaking hands mechanically with a dozen officers, while hiseyes kept peering beyond them to where, on the after-deck, the smilinggroup of women stood expectant.

  And presently the general pushed on for a word of farewell with them,the aides obediently following, and then came more presentations tocordial and kindly people whose names he did not even hear, for just alittle farther on, and still surrounded by cavaliers, stood Mrs. Ray,the handsomest and most distinguished-looking woman of the party, andclose beside her, _petite_ and graceful, her dark beauty even the morenoticeable in contrast with the fair features of her mother, stoodMaidie. And then at last it came, the simple words that threw down thesocial barrier that so long had balked him.

  "My aide-de-camp, Mr. Stuyvesant, Mrs. Ray,--Miss Ray," and with hissoul in his eyes he looked down into that radiant face, smiling socordially, unconstrainedly into his, and then found himself striving torecall what on earth it was he was so anxious to say.

  He knew that he was flushing to the peak of his forage-cap. He knew hewas trying to stammer something. He saw that she was perfectly placidand at her ease. He saw, worse luck, that she wore a little knot ofroses on the breast of her natty jacket, but that they were not his. Hefaltered something to the effect that he had been trying to see her eversince the night of the fire--had so much to thank her for; and herwhite, even, beautiful teeth gleamed as she laughingly answered th
at thecherries had more than cancelled the score.

  He asked for news of her brother, and was told that he had been too muchoccupied to come in again. They were going out to the Presidio thatafternoon.

  And then he ventured to hope Mr. Ray had sustained no great loss in therobbery of his quarters, and saw at once that he was breaking news, forthe smile vanished instantly, the lovely face clouded with concern, andhe had only time to stammer: "Then, probably, there was no truth in thestory. I merely happened to hear two nights ago that Mr. Ray's quartershad been robbed,--about the time the prisoners escaped." And then heheard his general calling, and saw that the party was already clamberingback to the Vanguard.

  "I--I--I hope I may see you when we get back from Manila, Miss Ray," hesaid, as he bowed over her hand.

  "I think you may see me--before that," was the smiling answer. And thenCaptain Hawley grabbed him by the arm and rushed him to the side.

  Two minutes more and he was on the deck of the transport. The lines werecast off, the white side-wheeler, alive with sympathetic faces, somesmiling, some tearful, and a forest of fluttering kerchiefs, droppedslowly astern, and all that long evening as they bored through the fogsof the Farallones and bowed and dipped to the long swell of the sea, andall the long week that followed as they steamed over a sunlit summerocean, Stuyvesant found himself repeating again and again her partingwords, and wondering what could have been the explanation of her knowingnothing of the robbery of her brother's quarters, or what could havebeen her meaning when she said "I think you may see me--before that."

  Only once on the run to Honolulu was the flotilla of transports nearedby other voyagers. Three days out from San Francisco the "O. and O."liner Doric slowly overhauled and gradually passed them by. Exchangingsignals, "All well on board," she was soon lost in the shadows of thenight long miles ahead.