CHAPTER XVIII—BIG GUNS BOOM

The others knew that he spoke the truth. A single torpedo, with its 200-pound explosive charge of the terrible gun cotton, can render helpless the greatest battleship in the world if the hole is blown in the right place below the waterline. And this indisputable fact has caused many nations, our own included, to doubt the wisdom of building so many big, heavily-armored and expensive ships. Many well-informed persons favor the development of a navy of submarines, which are becoming more and more efficient each year. They cost only a fraction as much as a battleship or cruiser, and can successfully cope with the larger craft.

“I wonder what a warship of the Uridian revolutionists is doing out here, anyhow?” went on Ned, as he and his friends watched the other craft which was endeavoring to escape.

“Probably scouting along the coast to see if it can capture anything,” suggested Frank. “The treasury of the revolutionists may be at low ebb, and they may hope to replenish it.”

“That’s what they’ve been doing, with your money and mine and Uncle Phil’s,” remarked his brother in a low voice. “I wish the Georgetown would help to get some of it back for us.”

“Maybe she will,” Frank murmured. They had followed their plan of not telling their shipmates the peculiar situation which had led them to enlist.

Everyone who could get a vantage point, and was not obliged to be at other duties, was watching the chase. The battleship was running under forced draft, and Ned and Frank were very thankful that they were not coal-passers, or firemen. For the temperature in the stokehole of a battleship, when forced draft is being used, is about the highest in the world.

Still everything possible is done to make the men comfortable, and they only work in short shifts, changing frequently, and receive the best of medical treatment and advice if they are temporarily overcome, as often happens. But word had gone into the engine room that the Georgetown was really making her first race after what might be considered a hostile craft, and the coal-passers and firemen stuck to their tasks with great grit, determined to make their craft do her best.

So through the sea plowed the great battleship, an immense wave piling up on either bow as she pushed her way along driven by the powerful engines deep in her interior.

“We don’t seem to be catching up very fast,” observed Frank.

“No, that little craft is showing a clean pair of heels,” agreed Ned. “We aren’t built for speed, anyhow.”

This was true enough, though for her size the Georgetown was one of the fastest battleships afloat. Still a smaller boat which did not meet with so much resistance going through the water, could get away with comparative ease. And it looked as if this was what was going to happen.

“Why don’t we fire a shot at her?” murmured Tom Dawson.

“We can’t very well put one across her bows when we’re dead astern,” commented Ned. “And if we fire any other way we’re likely to hit her.”

“Which I suppose we haven’t a right to do,” observed Frank. “We aren’t at war with Uridio. It’s only that we aren’t going to let her revolutionists do things to our citizens.”

But it was evident that something was going to be done, for there sounded, a little later, the order for clearing the ship for action. With cheers the men sprang to their stations, Ned and Frank going to the big gun turret, though it was hardly possible the great guns would be used on so small an opponent.

The decks were quickly cleared, and preparations made for all emergencies. The captain seemed to have taken into consideration the same idea that the sailor had given voice to—namely, that a torpedo might be launched against the Georgetown. He was going to take no chances, and even the boats were gotten ready for a quick launching if it should prove necessary.

“Fire one shot at her, to starboard from a three-inch gun,” was the order that came a little later. And with a yell of delight, not from bloodthirstiness, but at the chance for action, the crew of that gun sprang to obey.

“I wish we had a chance,” murmured Ned, regretfully, as he stood at the ammunition hoist in the big turret.

“Say, if one of these projectiles hit that ship there wouldn’t be a thing left,” said Frank.

“No, I reckon not. Well, maybe our chance will come later.”

With a dull boom the smaller gun sent out a projectile that carried a small explosive charge. It was aimed to strike far enough to one side of the escaping craft to do no damage.

Into the sea splashed the shell, and as it burst it sent a column of water high into the air.

“That’s a notification to them to slow down and let us come up to them,” said Frank.

“I wonder if they will,” came from Ned.

The issue was not long in doubt. From the stern of the smaller boat there shot out a puff of smoke, and then came a dull report. A small object was seen speeding toward the Georgetown.

“They’re trying to torpedo us!” shouted Ned, looking from the forward turret.

“That’s no torpedo,” one of the more experienced sailors said. “It’s only a small projectile, and it’s going to fall short.”

A moment later events proved that he was right, for the shell fell into the sea five hundred yards from the battleship, and a spray of water flashed into the air.

“Guess her guns haven’t much power,” said Frank.

“But she shows, by firing back at us, that she isn’t going to pull up and let us investigate her, I think,” remarked Ned. This was the case, for the other craft, the name of which was not visible, kept on at an undiminished speed. She was rapidly leaving the Georgetown behind, and soon the commander of the latter gave up the chase. He did not want to waste his coal, or run the risk of burning out bearings, or breaking a shaft, merely to capture a craft so small as the one flying the Uridian flag of the revolutionists.

“We can attend to her case later, if she comes monkeying around when we’re anchored off that banana republic,” observed Hank, and the others agreed with him.

Gradually the escaping craft drew away, until only her smoke could be seen on the horizon. It was the general opinion, afterward, that the vessel had been scouting around, perhaps to get sight of the approach of the United States’ war craft, and having seen her, had made haste to run and bring the word to the land forces. Just what the outcome would be no one knew.

It was two days later when the Georgetown came to anchor off the city of Pectelo, which was the seacoast capital of Uridio. As the big chains rattled through the hawse pipes, a boat was lowered away, and Captain Decker and some of his officers went ashore to learn what the situation was.

What took place ashore was not made public to the ship’s crew when the cutter returned. But a grave look was observed on the faces of the captain and his officers.

Everyone on the Georgetown waited eagerly for the next move. It was not long in coming.

“Man the forward turret!” came the command. “To your stations, men. We’re going to give them a demonstration!”

“Hurrah!” cried Ned.

“It’s our gun that’s going to be fired!” exulted Frank.

Like clockwork the men in the turret prepared for the work ahead of them. Frank took his place at the firing trigger, and waited for the range.

“Sight her at ten thousand yards,” came the command. “Aim at that hill back of the town. We’re going to blow it apart!”

“Aye, aye, sir!” Frank answered.

“Fire!” came the command.

“Fire she is!” echoed Frank.

And the big gun boomed.

CHAPTER XIX—ASHORE

“No, not from this turret. We’re going to fire another, but from the after one.”

Frank and his mates were a little regretful, for there is a wonderful fascination about working the big guns. But still he did not want to monopolize all the glory, if such it can be called.

So Frank’s crew cleaned the immense gun to have it in readiness for use when it would again be needed, and went back to their usual positions. A little later there was another terrific report, as the second fifteen-inch gun in the after turret sent a second 1500-pound projectile toward another hill back of Pectelo.

This time Ned and Frank and some of their friends had a good view of the flight of the shell as it sped on its mission of destruction, if not death. They were out of the turret now. Screeching through the air went the projectile. It struck the hill squarely, the gun being aimed as well as had the one Frank served.

An instant later there was a veritable fountain of earth and stones sent into the air, and then dust hid the scene from view.

“I wonder what the game is, firing at those hills?” questioned Ned.

“Maybe just to give the revolutionists a scare,“ suggested his brother.

“Sort of expensive scaring,” commented Tom Dawson.

“Well, we’ll know in good time, I guess,” was the opinion of Hank Dell.

The effect of the two big projectiles, other than that the tops of the hills had been smashed, was not discernible from on board the Georgetown.

But there was no mistaking the effect on the populace of the capital of the little republic. Through glasses Frank and Ned could notice wild excitement in the public square which came down to the water’s edge. Men, women and children seemed to be rushing about without any special object in view.

“Maybe they think we’ll bombard the town next,” Ned suggested.

“The old man wouldn’t do that,” declared Frank. “It isn’t a fortified city, and by the rules of civilized warfare an unfortified town can not be bombarded.”

“That doesn’t always hold—not in the European war,” said a sailor. “But the people here needn’t worry. We won’t send any shells among ’em. Why, we could take the whole place without using anything larger than one-pounders,” he boasted.

“I wish I knew what it was all about,” Frank said, and he wondered whether there would be a chance for him and his brother to go on shore and make some inquiries about their own and their uncle’s fortunes.

“Though if this battleship is going to shoot up the place after the inhabitants get out, I guess our chances for saving any of that money will be pretty slim,” he reasoned.

“I guess so, too,” assented Ned. “I wonder what the situation is, anyhow?”

But they continued to wonder, as no word came from the captain or other officers regarding the situation in Uridio. That it was momentous might be guessed from the fact that the commander and his officers still had serious looks on their faces.

When the second gun had been cleaned after the one shot, and all made ready for quick action, if need be, there was a period of waiting. Then a few small boats put out from the town and approached the Georgetown.

Those in them seemed somewhat in doubt as to the reception they might meet with, and it was noticed that all of them carried the national flag of the little republic, and in addition a peculiar banner, made in pennant shape, and colored red, white and green.

“I wonder what that flag is; revolutionary?” asked Hank.

“No, not if the cruiser that escaped from us was the navy of the revolutionists,” Frank remarked. “Their flag wasn’t the same shape or color as the flag on these boats. I guess these folks must belong to the party that is fighting the revolutionists.”

And this, later, they found to be the case. And as it was against the revolutionists that the battleship had come to make a demonstration, the other side was to be made welcome.

None from the battleship was allowed on board, however, and no shore leave was granted that first day or night. No one who has not been kept on board a vessel for several weeks, knows what a longing there is to go ashore, especially when it is within viewing distance.

But orders had been issued, and no one was allowed to leave. Many of the natives brought out fruit in their boats, and this was very welcome to the sailors. A brisk trade wind was soon under way. Uridian seemed to be a sort of Portuguese, that being the language of Brazil.

Toward evening a small launch containing some of the native officials came up to the battleship. There was an exchange of signals, and a ladder was lowered, a number of the dark-skinned, but brilliantly uniformed, Uridian officials coming on board. They were taken to the captain’s cabin, where a conference was held.

“A whole lot of mystery about this,” commented Hank Dell.

“Oh, I guess we’ll find out about it in due time,” Frank said.

“Double the number of sentries on guard tonight,” was an order Frank overheard after supper had been served, and the crew prepared to take their ease before turning in. “And instruct everyone of them to be unusually watchful.”

“Is something likely to happen?” asked the officer who had received this order.

“There is no telling. A rumor is afloat that the cruiser we chased is coming back. And she does carry torpedo tubes. That much is certain.”

“Well, as long as they haven’t a submarine it will be pretty easy to spot them.”

“Yes, but take no chances.”

It may well be imagined that a spirit of uneasiness and anxiety was aboard the Georgetown that night. An attack in the open is one thing, but watching for the unexpected, especially when it may be a torpedo that will rend the stoutest battleship in an instant, is very different, and it gets on the nerves of even the bravest.

It is said that in the present European war the continual fear on the part of the men of the different fleets that their craft may be torpedoed so works on their nerves that some of them go insane. There is no rest day or night, and even the most careful watching can not be depended on to guard against the danger. A submarine gives very little evidence of its approach.

Of course, in this case no such danger was to be apprehended, but no chances were being taken.

So after the Uridian officials had departed, double sentries were posted at all stations aboard, and the men were told to be on the watch for the approach of any craft, or for any unusual disturbance in the water.

“It’s a heap more fun to read about a condition like this than to actually have to take part in it,” remarked Frank, as he went on duty. He had an early “trick,” but Ned had to get out of his hammock at two o’clock in the morning to go on guard duty.

However, the night was pleasant and not too warm, and after Ned was fully awake he did not so much mind it. He paced up and down his part of the deck, with ready rifle, on the alert to challenge and fire if he saw anything suspicious.

Off about a mile lay the town, only a few lights showing. Ned wondered how many Americans were there, and if they were in any danger. He wondered, too, just how and where his own and his brother’s fortunes were invested, and what the chances were for recovering them. It was very still and quiet, save for the occasional footfall of some of the other sentries, or the little talk that went on as the guards were changed.

Ned was beginning to get sleepy again, in spite of the fact that he walked to and fro. His gun was feeling heavy. He wondered, after all, if there was any need of all this precaution.

Suddenly he thought he heard, in the water just below him, a slight commotion. At once his heart began to beat violently. Suppose it should prove to be a submarine after all. Or an automatic torpedo, which would presently burst and send them to the bottom. How had it gotten so near without his having heard or seen it? And there was, all about the Georgetown, a torpedo net, let down over the side to prevent the deadly missiles from hitting the ship’s plates!

Ned leaned over. Yes, something was moving in the water. He brought his rifle to bear, and was about to fire and give the alarm, when a searchlight was suddenly turned full on the very spot where there was a ripple in the calm surface of the sea.

Then there came a swish, and a flurry, and in the gleam of the powerful light Ned saw that it was a school of fish which had probably gathered near the battleship to feed on the scraps the cooks tossed overboard.

“Ha! That’s a good one on me!” Ned mused. “I’m glad I didn’t give any alarm.”

The sentry in charge of the searchlight said he had also heard the commotion in the water, and that was why he switched on the light. Of course the officer in charge of the sentries saw the light and had to be told why it was turned on. But there the incident ended.

“Shore leave will be granted!” was the unexpected order that was issued next day, the night having passed without accident.

“Hurrah!” cried Frank.

“Great!” echoed Ned. “Now we’ll have a chance to see what this country looks like, and we may find out something about the missing fortunes.”

Our heroes were among the first to be granted permission to land, and soon they were speeding toward the town in cutters. There were only a few small piers in what was a very small harbor, and not well protected at that, so the battleship had to anchor out. Up to the public pier raced the cutters, and out on shore leaped the eager sailors.

CHAPTER XX—THE RIOT

“Maybe they’ve cleared it all away,” Frank suggested. “Don’t you think, though, Ned, that there is a sort of air of expectancy about the people—as though they were looking for something unpleasant to happen, as we were last night on board?”

“Well, maybe you’re right, Frank,” Ned admitted, as he looked into the faces of the inhabitants. There were furtive glances cast at the men from the United States battleship, but, back of that, there seemed to be something else. And more than once Ned and Frank saw little knots of men gathered on the street corners. And they would look and point in the direction of the hills, where the big guns had made great holes in the earth.

“I wonder what they’d say if they knew you had a hand in making the dirt fly?” said Ned.

“Well, not much more of a hand than you had, Ned. We all had a finger in the pie, even if I actually did fire the big gun. I couldn’t have done that unless you fellows had helped. But I guess there’s no danger of ’em knowing what I did. Not that I care. Though they don’t seem much concerned at what we did.”

“No, and that’s the odd part of it. You’d think they’d be angry at us.”

“Unless these people in the city belong to the party we’ve come here to protect,” Frank suggested. “It may be that, you know. The revolutionists may have jumped out for the time being.”

“Yes, that’s so. Well, it’s a queer go however it is. Say, I wonder if we couldn’t go out and take a look at those holes the projectiles made?”

“I guess so. We’d better find out how far it is, though, and if we’ll have time to go and get back.”

But when Frank spoke to the commanding officer the latter shook his head.

“It’s too far out there to begin with,” he said, “and for another thing—” he paused and looked around as though to make sure no one else was listening. “For another thing,” he added, “we’d rather none of our men went out there—just now.”

“Why?” impulsively asked Ned.

Again the officer looked around.

“Well,” he said, “I don’t mind telling you, because I can see that you are a little different from the general run of our recruits. Not that they’re not fine fellows, and all that,” he hastened to say, “but some of them have been handicapped in life, and they haven’t as much natural intelligence as they might have. But I don’t in the least hold that against them. They may be all the better fighters when it comes to a brush.”

“Do you think we’ll have a fight?” asked Ned, and his voice was eager.

“Well, it’s hard to say,” replied the officer. He and the two boys of the battleship were off by themselves, on a quiet street leading up from the water front. For the time being none of the other men who had shore leave were around. “There is a peculiar situation here,” he said to Frank and Ned. “The captain has given orders that we must be very careful, and not go out to the place where we blew the tops off the hills, or, rather, where you did,” and he nodded at Frank.

“Why is that?” asked Ned, again displaying his impulsiveness.

“I can’t tell you,” was the smiling answer. “But you may learn in a few days.”

Frank and Ned knew better than to argue the point. They had a feeling that something momentous might occur at any time, and they wanted to be ready for it.

Deprived thus of permission to go out to the hills where the big guns had wrought the damage, they strolled about the town, looking with interest on the sights they saw.

They stopped for chocolate in a quaint little place, and bought some souvenirs to send to their uncle, thinking thus to cheer him in his loneliness.

But with all their looking about they saw nothing of any of the business enterprises in which Mr. Arden had told them their money, as well as his own, was invested. Later they learned that the mines, and the places where the natural products of the country came from, were some distance out in the little republic.

“What strikes me as queer,” said Ned, as they walked back toward the boat landing, for their time was nearly up, “what strikes me as queer is that every one we’ve seen—that is, the natives, if you can call them such—seem to be expecting something.”

“You mean something to happen?” asked Frank.

“Yes. They keep looking off there to the hills where you blew the top off, and talking to themselves in their queer lingo.”

“It isn’t such a queer lingo,” said Frank. “It’s Portuguese, and that language is very like Spanish.”

“Well, I never did like Spanish. But what do you guess is going on?”

“Give it up, unless there’s going to be a fight between the revolutionists and the regulars.”

“I wonder if we’ll be in on it.”

“Say, are you looking for trouble?” asked Frank, with a laugh.

“No, but if it’s coming our way, I’m not going to dodge it very hard,” Ned answered, grimly.

The two battleship boys strolled about the town a little longer, and then made their way to the boat landing, for it was nearly time to start back for the Georgetown.

“This looks like an American quarter,” said Frank, as they passed a place where several signs, in distinctly American names, were to be seen.

“It is,” said a petty officer, who was walking along with them. “And if there’s any trouble going to happen it will happen right here, in this quarter.”

“What do you mean?” asked Frank, quickly.

“Oh, nothing,” was the evasive answer. It was evident that the petty officer had said more than he intended to. “It’s just as well to know,” he went on, “where the American quarter of any foreign city is located. There’s no telling when one may need the information.”

Something in the officer’s words and manner impressed Frank. Dropping a little to the rear he whispered to his brother:

“Ned, open your eyes and take a good look around this place.”

“What for?”

“So you’ll know it again. I have an idea we’ll need to know it. Maybe we’ll have a scrap in it sooner than we expect.”

“A scrap? You mean a fight?”

“That’s just what I mean. There’s trouble brewing, and it isn’t far off!”

Ned did as his brother advised, and made a mental map of the streets of what might be designated the “American quarter” of Pectelo. It was not large, and was only a short distance from the water front.

A large number of the citizens of the South American city gathered to witness the departure of the blue-jackets for their battleship. And here again, in spite of the fact that some of the inhabitants cheered while others scowled, Ned and Frank could not help noticing that there was that same curious air of expectancy—as if something was about to happen.

But there was nothing out of the usual as the sailors took to the cutters and began steaming back to the Georgetown. They had had their shore leave and felt all the better for it.

Frank noticed that all the officers reported to the captain as soon as they got on board, and he wondered if that had anything to do with the expected happening.

Again that night, after hammocks had been slung, and the men had enjoyed their period of rest, were double sentries posted. It fell to the lot of Frank to have an important station on the side of the battleship nearest shore where he could plainly see the flickering lights.

It was nearly midnight when, as he patrolled his post up and down the deck, he saw on shore a series of lights suddenly flash into view. At first he paid no attention to them, thinking they indicated some celebration near the beach. But as they continued to flash he took more notice of them.

“It looks like a signal,” he said; “a signal to us. I wonder if there can be any trouble? I’d better notify the officer of the watch.”

It took but a moment to do this.

No sooner had the officer seen the flashing lights than he exclaimed:

“Arden, I’m glad you called me. I wasn’t expecting that signal so early. The revolutionists must be at it.”

“You mean—” began Frank.

“That’s a signal call, telling us that the revolutionists are again rioting against the United States citizens in the town,” said the officer. “We’ll have to land a party to protect them without delay.”

“Then there’ll be something doing all right!” exclaimed Frank.

“I should think there would be!” was the grim answer.

Instantly the officer gave the signal. Bells began ringing throughout the great battleship. The general call was sounded, and blue-jackets swarmed from their hammocks.

“It’s a riot!” cried a commanding officer, as soon as he had read the message flashed by the signal lights. “It’s what we’ve been expecting! The revolutionary party is stirring up a riot against the American residents!”

“Man the boats! Get a landing party ashore. Infantrymen and light artillery guns! We’ll show these chaps what it means to fight Americans! Lively, boys!”

Across the dark waters on which sparkled the reflections of the signal lights, came hoarse cries and shouts, as well as the reports of guns.

In an instant the battleship was astir. The men sprang to their stations, and Ned and Frank were among the first. Into the boats they piled, well armed, and in other boats that accompanied them were the light field pieces. They were on their way to quell the riot.

But what it was all about, the cause of it, and how it would affect them and their uncle, Ned and Frank could only guess.

CHAPTER XXI—UNEXPECTED NEWS

“That’s what it is,” said a petty officer in the boat containing Frank and Ned. “It’s a riot, and that’s what we’re going ashore for—to end it!”

In the path of the illumination from the battleship’s searchlights the boats sped on. Now could be seen a dark mass of men fighting near the shore.

“They’re going to dispute our landing,” observed Tom Dawson.

“Well, they won’t dispute it very long,” said Frank, significantly, as he tapped his rifle. “We’re ready for them.”

Up to the beach, through surf that was not heavy, went the boats. Before they grounded the men and youths leaped out into the water and fairly raced up the shingle. In an instant they formed in line and waited for orders from their officers. There were nearly three hundred of them, for the Georgetown carried over a thousand men, though of course many of them were not available for fighting duty on shore. However, several hundred more could be sent in case the impending conflict should go against the first men who landed.

“Attention, men!” called the commanding officer. “I want you to understand what this is about. Our captain has been appealed to for protection by a number of United States citizens living here. According to the signals flashed to us from shore our citizens are being attacked by a mob of the revolutionists. Just why, we needn’t go into now. But we must give protection to our friends, and we are going to try and drive off the mob.”

“Hurrah!” some one cried.

“Lively now, men!” went on the officer. “Forward! There they are!”

The dark mass of fighters which had been near the shore before the boats landed had gone farther up the strand just as the battleship men arrived. But now they were again rushing down the beach.

There were shouts, yells and cries, mingling with the pop of small arms. Most of the shouting was in a foreign tongue, Portuguese, most likely, so Ned and Frank thought.

“There must be a lot of our citizens here,” said Ned, as he saw that there were two good-sized crowds, one evidently attacking the other. And it was this attack and repulse, this backward and forward movement, as the tide of fighting changed, that had taken the conflicting forces away from the water’s edge, and now, once more, brought them to it again.

“Those who are being attacked aren’t all Americans,” said a petty officer near our heroes. “Our citizens threw their lot in with the inhabitants here who are opposed to the revolutionists, and the latter are attacking the loyal natives as well as our men. Now we’ll—”

But he had no time to explain further, as sharp orders to advance came. It was not very dark, though it was about midnight, for the moon shone brightly, and now the battleship had brought to bear on the scene all her powerful searchlights.

“Forward and at ’em!” came the command. “Protect the Americans!”

Snarling cries came in answer from the revolutionists. But they did not give way at once, though they must have realized that they were about to be attacked by some of the best-trained fighting men in the world, and some of the bravest—the United States blue-jackets.

The crack of guns, which had ceased for a moment, now began again more spitefully than before. The two parties in the riot were firing at one another, and bullets began to sing over the heads of the battleship boys. Instinctively several ducked. Others laughed.

“You needn’t duck,” some one near Frank called. “When you hear the bullet it’s past you.”

“Forward! Forward!” came the cries.

“Over this way!” a voice shouted in English. “Over this way, battleship boys! They’re beating us back!”

It was a cry for help from those being attacked by the rioters.

Ned and Frank found themselves in a division that was being led off to one side for a flank attack. The hearts of both lads were beating violently. It was the first time they had ever been under fire, and for the first time they were about to fire a shot at a human being. It was a strange feeling, but they felt that right was on their side. And they were going to save the lives of fellow citizens who were being attacked by a foreign mob.

“It’s just like a football rush!” cried Ned in Frank’s ear. He had to shout to be heard above the crack of the rifles.

“Come on! Come on!” yelled back Frank, just as he might have done had he and Ned been carrying the ball down the field.

As yet, though the hum and whine of bullets was almost constant in the air, none of the battleship force had been hit, as far as was known. But suddenly a lad in the ranks behind Frank and Ned gave a convulsive cry and fell to the ground.

“They got me!” he cried. “It’s only in the leg, though,” he added an instant later. “Go on, boys, and give ’em one for me!”

“Three cheers for Wright!” some one called. And they were heartily given, but the advance did not halt.

On rushed the battleship boys toward the mass of rioting revolutionists. They had swung around now, to attack them in the rear and to one side.

“Halt!” came the order from the lieutenant leading the advance. “Ready! Aim! Fire over their heads!”

He wanted, if possible, to quell the riot without taking life. A volley crashed out, and there came a return fire from the revolutionists. Several of the men from the Georgetown fell. Something like a shout of anger ran through the ranks.

“Fire low!” yelled the lieutenant. This time there was a different story. Ned and Frank could not see at whom they were shooting, because they were now in some of the water front streets of the capital and the buildings cast shadows. They could see, however, a dark mass of humanity before them, and at this they and the others fired. A number were seen to fall, and then the tide of battle suddenly turned.

With howls of fear in their foreign tongue the revolutionists turned and fled. They had had enough in one volley from the rifles of the battleship’s force. It was an easily won victory—for the time being.

“Come on! After ’em!” yelled Ned, eager for the fray.

“Halt! Hold on! No pursuit! We merely want to stop the riot, and have no wish to inflict punishment,” said the lieutenant. “We’ll hold the ground here for a time. Now, who are hurt?”

A number had received bullet wounds, it developed, though none was necessarily fatal. Some were incapacitated through wounds in legs or arms, and these were quickly sent to the rear to be transported to the ship for treatment. Sentries were posted, and a little later some of the Americans in whose interests the battleship force had been landed came up. They had guns, and had been fighting against the revolutionists with the friendly citizens. They reported that the revolutionary force had retreated to the hills back of the city.

“Is that where the revolutionists have their headquarters?” asked Frank of one American, who said he owned a large coffee warehouse in front of which the battleship boys were standing.

“Yes, in between those two hills.”

“So that’s why we fired at them,” said Frank in a low voice to Ned. “It was to scare them out.”

“Only it didn’t; or, rather, it brought them into town,” Ned replied.

The American business man, who said his name was Paige Kennedy, stated that he had large interests in Uridio, as had many of his American friends, and that these interests were seriously threatened by the revolutionists.

He opened his coffee warehouse and switched on the lights, inviting the squad of men from the battleship to make the place their headquarters. This the lieutenant who led the force including Frank and Ned was glad to do. The wounded had been sent to the ship. Off in different parts of the city the sound of firing could be heard, the peculiar crack of the rifles carried by the blue-jackets being easily distinguished. It was evident that not all the squads of fighting revolutionists had been as easily dispersed as had the one our friends encountered.

“But what’s it all about—why did they attack the Americans here?” asked Frank of Mr. Kennedy.

“Well, it’s quite a political tangle—the whole business,” he said. “To explain briefly I will say that there are here two parties, each one trying to get the controlling power. We Americans established ourselves under the present ruling party, and they treated us well. In fact we are making lots of money. I guess it’s the money—our money, our factories and warehouses—that the revolutionists are after.

“Of course, we stood up for our rights, naturally, and the citizens’ party, as I call the present ruling one, to distinguish it from the revolutionists, stood by us. We heard talk some time ago that we Americans were to be driven out of this republic, so we appealed to the Washington authorities for help. We are glad to see that it arrived in time.

“There has been fighting before this, but it did not amount to much. This attack planned for to-night, and of which we had word in time to prepare, in some measure, is the beginning of the effort to drive us out.”

“Well, they won’t drive you now,” said the lieutenant. “Arden—Frank,” he said, to distinguish the two brothers, “Arden, find Sergeant Wherry and tell him I want him to take a message for me.”

“Yes, sir,” answered Frank, saluting. Mr. Kennedy looked up suddenly.

“Excuse me,” he said, “but did I hear you call some one Arden?”

“Yes,” the lieutenant replied. “I have two brothers in my squad to-night, Frank and Ned Arden,” and he indicated them. Frank paused a moment.

“Are you, by any chance, related to a Mr. Philip Arden of Ipswhich, Long Island,” went on the coffee man.

“He’s our uncle” exclaimed Ned, impulsively. “Do you know him?”

“Well, I should say I do!” was the unexpected answer. “I have been looking after some of his interests down here—that is, I was until he was cheated out of them. What has become of him? I have been wondering why he didn’t do something to protect his property, and straighten matters out. Where is he?”

“In the federal prison at Atlanta,” replied Frank.

“In prison?”

“Yes. He is charged with inciting some revolution down here, and his property in Ipswhich was confiscated, as well as his fortune and ours down here. Claims for damages were filed against him, and he was unjustly convicted. Friends are now trying to reopen the case.”

“Oh! So that’s how the matter lies!” exclaimed Mr. Kennedy. “Well, I want to tell you boys, right now, that your uncle had no more to do with this revolution down here than I did. But I see the game now. It’s that rascal of a Bernardo and his crowd. Why say, I understand now! Bernardo is one of the revolutionists!” he cried. “And he gave this false information against your uncle to cover his own crimes and those of his helpers. It’s a plot to ruin your uncle! Say, you boys have just come in time!

“If this revolution can be put down, and you can get Bernardo and his rascals into your hands, you may be able to get evidence to clear your uncle and free him. If only you can stop the revolution!”

“Oh, we’ll stop it all right,” said the lieutenant, significantly. “Arden, you needn’t go on that errand. I’ll send some one else. I didn’t know you were so concerned in this matter. You stay and have a talk with Mr. Kennedy for it is possible that he might help you quite a good deal. I’ll relieve you and your brother from further duty to-night, unless there is more fighting.”

“Thank you, sir,” answered both boys, and saluting they departed.

CHAPTER XXII—THE PURSUIT

“Well, of course it isn’t as if he were a criminal,” put in Ned.

“No, of course not,” admitted the coffee man.

“And he’s pretty comfortable, or he was the last we heard from him,” went on Frank. “But he does want his liberty so he can prove his innocence and save our money. You know we lost practically everything.”

“Yes, and we were robbed in New York, and if we hadn’t enlisted we might have starved,” added Ned, and he and his brother, in turn, told their story.

Then came Mr. Kennedy’s opportunity. By this time the sailors from the battleship had made themselves comfortable in the warehouse, disposing themselves on piles of empty bags to sleep. Of course, sentries were posted to guard against a surprise in case the revolutionists returned, but this did not seem likely. The sound of firing in other parts of the town grew more distant, and it was evident that the rebels had been driven back to their quarters in the hills.

“And we may have to get you to use your big guns on them again,” said the coffee man.

“Did the shells do much damage—kill many?” asked Frank.

“He fired one gun,” said Ned, proudly.

“Did you, indeed? Well, no, not many were killed; in fact, none, though several were wounded by flying debris. We asked your captain to shell the two hills to blow them apart, and make it less easy for the revolutionists to hide up there. We hope to attack the position soon, and we wanted it made as easy as possible to take.

“But now I’ll tell you something of your uncle’s affairs, and we’ll try and plan a way to help him. It all depends on that rascal Bernardo, one of the rebel leaders. He’s a bad one!”

Then the coffee man went into details with which it is unnecessary to burden the readers, as most of what he told Frank and Ned was of interest only to them and their uncle.

In brief the facts were these. After the death of the boys’ father, as has been related before, Mr. Arden took his money and the boys’ fortunes, of which he had charge, and invested in various industries in the South American republic. Some of the investments were in the natural resources of the country, and others were in stock companies organized to develop different businesses, some of which were owned by American, and some by other foreign residents of Pectelo.

It was through some of these business matters that the boys’ uncle had met Mr. Kennedy. The two had trade interests in common, and often helped each other. Ned and Frank, going to college, and spending their summers on Great South Bay, knew nothing of all this.

Finally the success of Mr. Arden in the South American republic excited the jealousy of some of the native residents there, especially the man Rafello Bernardo, a Portuguese trader. He had had some business dealings with Mr. Arden, but the latter caught him in some underhand transactions and refused to have anything more to do with him. This angered Bernardo, and he sought means of revenging himself.

He found it in the pending revolution. Revolutions often occur in Central and South American republics of the lesser size, and in Uridio they were nothing new. But to have any sort of revolution it is necessary to have arms, and as the revolutionists under Bernardo had none, they had to purchase them.

The government forces, or at least the government then in power, the one under which Mr. Arden, Mr. Kennedy and the others held their concessions and privileges, felt that if they could keep arms away from the revolutionists they could easily subdue them, and to this they bent all their efforts.

But arms were smuggled in, and not until it was too late did Mr. Arden learn that some of his own agents and employees had used his factories, his warehouses and his very transportation facilities to bring in the weapons. And when this was found out Bernardo falsely said that Mr. Arden had helped to finance the revolution, that he had arranged for the shipment of arms, and that Mt. Arden hoped to have a large part in the new government that would be set up.

Mr. Arden had no means of disproving this, and action was taken against him by those who had been injured, complaint being made to the federal authorities, who had no option but to act and cause the arrest of the boys’ uncle. The rest of the story you know.

“And so things have been going on from bad to worse,” said Mr. Kennedy. “I wondered what had become of your uncle. I knew his affairs here were in bad shape, but I kept expecting him to come down and straighten them out. I never dreamed he was arrested. I was in Europe on business for awhile, and when I returned I had so much on my hands, protecting my property from the effects of the revolution, that I had no chance to make the proper inquiries.

“The revolution dragged until recently, when it assumed such an aspect that we Americans determined to ask the protection of Uncle Sam. And I assure you I never saw a prettier sight than when your magnificent battleship dropped anchor in our bay.”

“She is a great ship!” cried Ned, with sparkling eyes.

“But how are we going to get hold of this Bernardo, and prove the innocence of Uncle Phil?” asked Frank.

“I don’t really know,” replied Mr. Kennedy. “We shall have to wait and see what happens. The revolution isn’t over yet, by a long shot. Those rascals have drawn off, but they’ll come back. They really outnumber us—that is we Americans, our employees and the friendly inhabitants,” he went on, “though you blue-jackets will turn the scale in our favor. And once the revolution is broken, and Bernardo and his rascals driven out of the country, I think we’ll have peace. We’ll see what happens when morning comes.”

It may be imagined that Frank and Ned had so much to talk about that they did not sleep well. But finally they dozed off. Morning brought no resumption of the fighting. Orders came that the detachments already on shore, thus including Frank and Ned, were to remain in the city, being stationed in different quarters. More blue-jackets came from the battleship, and more field artillery was landed.

Camp kitchens were set up, and the detachment which included our two heroes remained quartered in the coffee warehouse, which made fine barracks.

That day passed quietly, though spies reported that the revolutionists were gathering in force in the hills and seemed to be getting ready for another attack.

It came two days later. But the battleship forces, the American residents, and the loyal citizens were ready for them, and after some sharp fighting, in which a number were killed and wounded, including some of the comrades of Ned and Frank, the tide of battle went against the revolutionists.

Their defeat was accompanied by a panic, and most of them surrendered.

It fell to the lot of Ned, Frank and their detachment to be in the van of the fighting. Frank did not receive a scratch, but Ned received a flesh wound in the arm. He refused to go to the rear to have it treated, but tied on a first aid bandage, and went on fighting. Mr. Kennedy joined the squad and fought side by side with Frank and Ned. And it was due to this that they were able, toward the end, to catch sight of the man responsible for their uncle’s troubles.

“There’s Bernardo now, and his bodyguard—rascals all!” exclaimed the coffee man as they were pursuing a group of the fleeing revolutionists.

“Where?” demanded Frank.

“There—that tall, dark man!”

“Come on, Ned!” yelled the older brother.

The fighting was practically over. That in which our two heroes had taken part had been going on near the water front. The two brothers rushed forward, followed by Mr. Kennedy.

“Those lads have grit!” he exclaimed.

Bernardo, seeing that he was completely beaten, called to his men to follow him. He turned and shook his fist at his pursuers, but he had no more shots left in either his rifle or revolver, nor did any of his men.

“We’ll get him!” panted Frank. “We’ll get him and make him prove Uncle Phil’s innocence!”

The chase grew hotter. It was along the water front, and out among the small piers.

CHAPTER XXIII—OVERBOARD

“But we haven’t,” said Ned, sadly, as he saw the powerful craft, containing the escaping revolutionists, speeding out into the bay. The cutters and motor boats of the warship were some distance away, some of them having been taken back to the Georgetown.

One of the men who was among the last to leap into the boat after Bernardo, carried a large tin box. He seemed to be very careful of it.

“Probably it contains what cash they have left,” said Frank.

“Yes, and perhaps papers that might serve to free Uncle Phil,” added his brother. “Oh, Frank, we simply must get those fellows!”

“What’s the trouble?” asked Mr. Kennedy, who came running up at that moment. He was rather stout, and had been winded by the pursuit. “Where are Bernardo and his rascals?” he asked.

“There they go,” replied Frank, pointing to the motor boat, now well away from shore.

“And one of them has a tin box full of money with him,” added Ned.

“Not much money left among the revolutionists,” was the comment of the coffee man. “Besides, if there is, you can be sure Bernardo has it safely put away somewhere. He wouldn’t take any chances carrying it with him in that fashion.”

“But there was something of value in the box,” Frank insisted.

“Papers and documents, most likely,” said Mr. Kennedy. “Those fellows don’t want to leave behind anything incriminating. They aren’t any fonder of going to prison than the next man.”

“If that tin box contains papers some of them might prove our uncle’s innocence,” ventured Frank.

“By Jove! So they might!” cried the coffee merchant. “I never thought of that. Bernardo is just the sort of rascal, too, to do away with the proof.”

“If we only had a boat!” and Ned groaned in disappointment as he uttered the words.

At that moment there came out from around one of the piers a small motor boat.

“Look!” cried Frank. “It isn’t very big, but it will hold us. And maybe we can catch them. Hi, you!” he called to the man in the boat, “sell us your craft—lend it to us. We’ll pay you well!”

The man only shrugged his shoulders and turned away.

“Name your own price!” yelled Ned.

“He doesn’t understand you,” said Kennedy. “He’s Portuguese. I know him. He’s a fruit dealer. I’ll talk to him.”

Rapidly the coffee merchant explained the situation. There was a quick exchange of rapid-fire talk, and the boatman brought his craft to shore.

“Get in!” cried Mr. Kennedy. “We’ll give those rascals a race, but I’m afraid we haven’t much chance. They have a good start, and their boat is faster than ours, but we’ll do the best we can.”

Eagerly Frank and Ned, not forgetting their rifles, jumped into the boat. A moment later they were off. The motor boat was of recent pattern, and contained a good engine. But the Portuguese who owned it did not know how to get the most speed out of the machine. He was rather surprised when Frank made some adjustments, changing the timer, and regulating the air intake valve of the carburetor.

At once the craft increased her speed.

“Say, you boys know something about boats, don’t you?” exclaimed the coffee man, while the Portuguese looked in wonder at our two heroes.

“Oh, we know a little,” admitted Ned, modestly.

“I wish I knew enough to make this into a hydroplane,” said Frank, as he peered eagerly toward the boat they were pursuing. “It’s about the only way we’ll be able to catch those rascals I’m afraid.”

“We’re pulling up on them a little,” declared Ned.

“Not enough, though,” his brother retorted, rather gloomily.

They were well out in the bay, which was unusually calm. Back in the city the last remnants of the revolutionary army—if such it could be called—were fleeing before the combined forces of American business men, their employees, the loyal citizens, and, finally, the blue-jackets from the Georgetown.

“I wonder what the lieutenant will say to us, running off from the squad this way?” remarked Ned, as he filled the almost empty oil cups.

“Why, it’s all right—we’re in pursuit of the enemy,” replied Frank. “Just because our private interests happen to be served also, doesn’t do any harm.”

“I think you’re right,” agreed Mr. Kennedy. “I will explain matters if you get into any trouble. But, boys, I really think we are gaining on them!”

Ned and Frank stood up, and looked searchingly ahead. They were nearer to the boat containing Bernardo and his cronies. They could see them more plainly. There appeared to be some dispute going on about the tin box, which was wound around with many turns of rope.

“I wish they’d have such a difference of opinion that they’d fight among themselves,” remarked Ned. “Then some of them might come over on our side, and we’d have the evidence we need.”

“No such luck,” sighed Frank. “We might as well wish they’d go near enough the battleship, so we could signal to have them fired on.

“Not sunk, though,” he added quickly, “for that would lose the box for us altogether. I’d just like to have one of our quick-firers disable them. But we’re going away from the Georgetown, instead of toward it.”

This was only too evident.

Of course Ned and Frank might have fired on the escaping men in the boat ahead of them, as they were within rifle shot, but neither of the boys dreamed of shooting at the rascals. It was too cold-blooded.

The boat of the fruit dealer was making good time. It was smaller and lighter than the larger craft containing Bernardo and the others, and was not so heavily laden.

“Ned, I believe we’re going to catch them!” Frank cried, a little later. “I can see them ever so much more plainly.”

“So can I,” said Mr. Kennedy. “Now, boys, you had better let me do the talking, if we really overhaul them and force them to stop. I can speak their language and I know what to say to them to bring them to terms I think. And you want to look out. Bernardo is an ugly customer, and he is probably very bitter over the defeat of his forces and the collapse of the revolution. He’ll be especially vindictive against you sailors, for if it had not been for Uncle Sam’s men the revolutionists would undoubtedly have won.”

“Well, we have our rifles and automatics,” replied Frank, as he looked to see that his gun was loaded, and the pistol in readiness. “If they try any monkey business—”

“Look! Look!” suddenly interrupted Ned. “They’re having another dispute! And it’s about the box!”

Several of the rascals were now standing up in the boat. One of them had the box in his arms, and Bernardo was trying to take it from him. High words could be heard.

“We’re going to close in on them, and they know it,” exulted Frank. “Maybe some of them want to offer us the box to stop the pursuit.”

“I wouldn’t agree to that,” said Mr. Kennedy. “You might need more evidence than is in the box—personal testimony. Don’t let them get away if you possibly can stop them.”

“I really believe we are going to get them,” cried Ned.

It seemed very probable, and the revolutionists evidently thought the same thing. The dispute over the box was renewed.

“I wonder what really is in it,” ventured Ned.

No one could tell him.

Suddenly one of the men stood up, dealt the revolutionist who held the box a blow that sent him overboard, and as he fell, the man dealing the blow caught the box in his own hands. Then he yelled out something in his own tongue.

“What is he saying?” asked Ned, eagerly.

“Quiet, just a moment,” cautioned Mr. Kennedy, who was listening intently.

The man screamed something at those in the pursuing boat, and shook one fist at them. Then, with a sudden motion, he tossed the box into the water. It sank instantly, and groans of disappointment came from Ned and Frank. The evidence that possibly would clear their uncle, and restore their fortunes, seemed lost forever.

“What did he say?” asked Frank.

“He said that all the documents referring to the revolution would rest on the bottom of the bay,” translated Mr. Kennedy. “He defied us, saying that though the revolution was checked it was not over, and that no punishment could be given Bernardo and his friends, because the necessary papers would never fall into our hands.”

“Did he say anything about Uncle Phil?” asked Ned.

“I don’t believe he knows him, though Bernardo does, and he may suspect you are his nephews,” answered the coffee merchant.

“Come on!” yelled Frank. “They may have destroyed the documentary evidence, but we’ll get them and make them testify in person! We’ll be up to them in another minute. Get your gun ready, Ned!”

But alas for their hopes! Their motor suddenly “went dead.” They lost headway, and the other boat drew swiftly away, while the revolutionist who had been knocked overboard was seen swimming toward the stalled craft.