CHAPTER XXIV—THE MISSING BOX

“Maybe not,” agreed Frank, with a sigh, in which his brother joined. “But I would like to find out what made the motor stop so suddenly, and just when we were about to overhaul them, too.”

He continued to work over the machinery, adjusting and readjusting the carburetor and the spark-timer, but without result. The Portuguese owner looked on interestedly and finally said something in his own language, which sounded much like Spanish.

“What is he saying?” asked Ned of Mr. Kennedy.

“He says perhaps there is no gasoline. He did not have much when we started.”

“Great guns!” exploded Frank. “Why didn’t we think of that before? We would have had time to stop and get a supply, and maybe, after that, might have caught the rascals.”

An examination of the forward tank showed that the surmise of the boat’s owner was correct. The gasoline container was dry, and that was what had caused the engine to stop.

“Well, what are we going to do?” asked Ned, looking around on the bay. “Have we got to stay out here? We may be classed as deserters, Frank.”

“Oh, I think a boat that we can hail may pass us soon,” suggested Mr. Kennedy. “They’ll tow us in.”

There was nothing they could do save wait.

They hoisted their handkerchiefs on a boat hook as a signal of distress and finally it was seen. A boat came and towed them back to the city.

Before this, however, the man who had been knocked overboard from the other boat came swimming up to the craft containing our friends. He said something in Portuguese which Mr. Kennedy translated as being a surrender. He had to come to those he had been fighting, as his friends had gone off and left him.

He was hauled on board, and told that he would be made a prisoner and turned over to the proper authorities.

“He wasn’t one of the leaders, though,” said Mr. Kennedy to the boys, after a talk with the man. “He was a sort of servant to Bernardo.”

“What does he say was in the box?” asked Frank, eagerly.

“He doesn’t know. He imagined it was money, and that was why he was hanging on to it so tightly. The others, he says, claimed there were only papers in the box—papers that would get them into trouble if they fell into the hands of the government. That’s why it was tossed overboard.”

“Does he know anything about Uncle Phil’s affairs?” asked Ned.

Mr. Kennedy inquired, but the man shook his head. He seemed much disheartened. Possibly he imagined he would be executed.

“And to think we have to come away, and leave at the bottom of the sea evidence that would free Uncle Phil,” said Frank regretfully, as the rescue boat towed them away from the place where the box had sunk.

“Yes, it is too bad,” agreed his brother. “Well, maybe things will take a better turn, now that the revolution is broken up and Bernardo and his crowd scattered.”

“I hope so,” returned Frank, thoughtfully.

When they reached the city the man they had picked up was turned over to the military authorities. Then Frank and Ned reported to their commanding officer. He had just begun to wonder where they had gone, as the fighting was all over, and the blue-jackets (though they all wore white now instead of blue) were reporting back.

“And so they got away?” asked the lieutenant, after hearing the story of our two heroes.

“Yes, and all because of a pint of gasoline!” said Frank, bitterly. “If we’d had that much we could have caught them, I’m sure.”

“But not in time to have saved the box of papers,” Ned remarked.

“Oh well, maybe they’ll be caught, and we can force Bernardo to make a confession and free Uncle Phil,” went on Frank, more hopefully. But Ned shook his head. He did not have much faith.

“Are we to stay on shore longer?” asked Frank of their lieutenant, as the boys and the rest of their squad went back to the coffee warehouse.

“I don’t know. I am waiting for orders. I think we’ll go back, though.”

And a little later word to this effect was sent to them. Those who had borne the brunt of the fighting were ordered back to the Georgetown, while fresh men replaced them as a guard to American interests on shore.

“I guess they want to give the other fellows a chance to have some of the honor and glory,” said Hank Dell, as our friends were on their way to the battleship.

But there was no more fighting that night. Matters were quiet in the capital, though rumors came in of little skirmishes in the outlying districts. The backbone of the revolution seemed to have been broken.

Frank and Ned felt very badly about the loss of the tin box. They felt more sure every hour that it contained just the evidence needed to free their uncle. But the box, at the bottom of the bay, seemed gone beyond hope of recovery.

“Of course Uncle Phil may get out, eventually, anyhow,” suggested Ned, “but I want to see him out now.”

“So do I,” chimed in Frank.

Affairs began to straighten themselves out in the little republic that had gone through such strenuous times. The American and other merchants made preparations to resume their interrupted businesses. For a time it was thought that Bernardo would be caught, but he appeared to have made good his escape.

Then suddenly, about a week later, without warning, the revolutionary fighting broke out again. It appeared that Bernardo and his rascals had landed farther down the coast, and had, by making a detour, reached their stronghold in the hills back of the town. There they made ready for a new attack.

It was made shortly after sunrise one morning following a night march, and at once the alarm was signaled out to the battleship. For some marines had been left on shore to act as guards and sentries, and their commander quickly sent word for reinforcements.

Once again was the call to arms sounded on the Georgetown. Again did the men take to the boats with their rifles and field pieces. Again came that rush on shore and once more the streets of Pectelo echoed to the sounds of fighting, and the rattle of rapid-firers.

But the second effort of the revolutionists was as but a flash in the pan compared to their first attempts, though there was severe fighting in one or two places, and many were killed and wounded, a number of the force of the Georgetown meeting death. But it could not be helped.

Frank and Ned were again permitted to have their share in the hot and exciting work, and this time Frank received a wound in the leg which made it necessary for him to go to the rear.

“I’ll go with you,” offered Ned, as his brother was picked up.

“No, you won’t!” cried Frank. “You stick it out! Maybe you’ll have a chance at Bernardo. I hear he’s on the job again.”

The plucky lad waved his hand at his brother as they bore Frank back to the landing stage to send him aboard the ship where he could have better treatment than in the city hospital.

“Why, the Georgetown is coming closer in shore!” Frank cried, as he looked across the bay and noticed that the vessel was at a new anchorage.

“Yes,” said one of the petty officers, “the old man is going to shell the revolutionary headquarters again, and he’s going to make a good job of it this time. So he put in closer to shore for the work.”

“Good!” cried Frank. “Maybe I’ll have a chance at the guns, if I did have to give up fighting on land.”

“I’m afraid you won’t—not with that leg. And they’re going to bombard soon,” was the answer.

The party taking off the wounded men, of whom there were several besides Frank, waited until the battleship had dropped her anchor in the new location. Then they went aboard, and soon afterward there began a bombardment of the hill section where the rebels had again set up their camp.

The shells from the big guns, as well as those from the smaller ones, flew screeching over the town, and burst in the neighborhood of the two hills, at one of which Frank had fired. The destruction was terrific, but the loss of life small, as most of the rebels were down in the city fighting. Much to his chagrin Frank was not allowed to serve “his” gun, as he called the forward fifteen-inch gun.

But as I have said, the second effort of the rebels did not amount to much. They were soon put to flight, and the effect of the ship’s bombardment, added to the hot fire from the blue-jackets on shore, soon brought the revolution once more to an end. It was most effectually broken this time.

“And that’s not the best of it!” cried Ned, when he came on board with his mates, dirty and powder-stained. “That’s not the best of it, Frank, old man!”

“It isn’t? what is?”

“How’s your leg?”

“Oh, never mind my leg! It’s all right—not so bad. Tell me the news!”

“They captured Bernardo and his gang!”

“They did? Who?”

“I don’t know. Some of our boys, I believe. He’s locked up in the military prison, I hear, and is to be tried as a traitor.”

“Good! Now maybe we can get out of him something that will clear Uncle Phil!”

“Oh, if we only can!” cried Ned.

But it was a vain hope. Bernardo was indeed captured, with most of those who had plotted with him. Some had been killed. The rebel leader, however, maintained an absolute silence when questioned in regard to the boys’ uncle. Mr. Kennedy proved an invaluable friend in conducting these negotiations for Frank and Ned, but they came to no end. Bernardo insisted that Mr. Arden was mixed up in the revolution, and that he was guilty of the political crimes for which he had been convicted. It seemed hopeless to Frank and Ned, and they were more disheartened than ever.

The revolution had been put down, and the Americans and their property in Uridio protected, but it had cost something in gallant lives of the men and youths from the Georgetown. Several had been killed, and more than a score wounded.

But it was in a just cause, and perhaps it had to be. There were some sad scenes following the fighting.

The rebels were dispersed, and most of them renewed their allegiance to the government and were pardoned. Not so, however, Bernardo and his ringleaders. To the end, when he received a sentence of life imprisonment, he maintained that Mr. Arden was guilty of the crimes charged against him.

“And to think if we only had that box, which is at the bottom of the bay, we might free him,” sighed Ned.

“It’s too disheartening to think of,” Frank declared, shaking his head slowly.

Their story was now quite well known, and some of their comrades received permission to use nets, dragging them on the bottom of the bay, in the hope of bringing up the box. Ned helped, and so did Frank when his leg healed, which it did in about ten days. But the efforts were fruitless.

“Well, we leave here to-morrow,” said Frank one day, as he and his brother were taking their ease on deck, having just finished their tour of duty.

“Yes, it’s been a great time while it lasted, but I do wish we had some good news to take back North to Uncle Phil.”

“So do I.”

The battleship was soon to leave. Matters in Uridio had now quieted down, and the government had the situation well in hand. Every promise was made that the rights of the Americans would be respected, and they were to be given adequate sums for the damage caused to their property by the rebels. The stronghold of the latter had literally been blown to bits by the big guns of the Georgetown.

Shortly after reveille one morning word was given to hoist the anchors. A parting salute had been fired as a compliment to the Uridian flag. It was answered from a small land battery. The one cruiser owned by the rebels had not been seen since the Georgetown had pursued her.

What had become of her was not learned until later, when it was discovered that her commander had been told of the collapse of the revolution, and had discreetly remained away. Later he took service with the government and turned his craft over to the authorities, so unless she has sunk, or tried to fight some other vessel out of her class, the little war craft may yet be doing duty for Uridio.

“Well, it’s good-bye to Uridio,” remarked Ned, as he looked landward.

“That’s what it is,” answered Frank.

“I wonder if we will ever see this place again?”

“I doubt it—that is, unless there is another revolution.”

“Oh, I guess they’ve got fighting enough for the present.”

“Just what I think.”

“Maybe we’ll see some other countries, more interesting than this. I’d like to go to Europe, and to Japan and China, and I’d like to see Africa too.”

“Wow! Why don’t you include the North Pole and Australia while you are at it,” came with a laugh. “Warships like this don’t travel just any old place. It costs too much money.”

“Oh, I know that. Just the same I’d like to see other countries, especially those that are well built up. This is only a one-horse affair.”

“It isn’t much of a place, that’s true.”

Slowly the great anchors of the Georgetown came out of the bay as the steam winches wound up the big chains. Ned and Frank were on duty forward as the immense hooks came to the surface.

Something on one of the flukes caught Frank’s eye. It looked like a bunch of seaweed, but when he glanced a second time he saw what it was, and cried out.

“Ned! Ned! Great guns, Ned! Look at that! It’s the tin box! The tin box Bernardo’s man threw out of the boat. It caught on the fluke of the anchor and was brought up from the bottom of the bay! Great guns! Don’t let it get away again! It’s the box with the papers that may free Uncle Phil!” and he fairly hopped up and down.

CHAPTER XXV—CLEARED

He was a genial Irishman, and, as he said, he was there to pass the signals to the operator of the steam winch when the anchor had been hoisted high enough. In a quick manner, though he did not know all of the story of our heroes, he had grasped the situation. In another moment the anchor hung stationary over the side of the battleship.

It was near enough the deck for Frank to scramble over the side and down the great links of the chain. Some one passed him a rope with a hook on the end—he was so excited he did not know who it was—and he managed to catch the hook in the ropes wound about the box, and so haul it up.

How carefully he did it may well be imagined, for if the box had slipped from the anchor and again fallen into the sea, the chances of recovering it would have been very slight indeed.

Then, clasping close in his arm the tin case, dripping with water and slimy with seaweed, Frank clambered back on deck. Ned was waiting for him.

“Is it the same box?” Ned cried.

“I’m sure it is,” Frank answered. “Isn’t it the most wonderful thing in the world?”

“It certainly is,” agreed Ned.

The two brothers looked at their treasure-trove. About them gathered their mates, some of whom had heard the story. And then word came from the captain, demanding to know what the delay was about in getting the anchor catted, so that the Georgetown might proceed. A lieutenant came forward, and to him Frank briefly told the story.

“Humph!” was the remark. “Well, I think I’d better take this box to the captain, and let him supervise the opening of it. If it contains what you think it does he will notify you.”

Ned and Frank were eager to open the box themselves, but they realized that discipline aboard a naval vessel must be observed, so they made no objections. A petty officer carried the box to the captain’s quarters and the work of getting under way the big craft proceeded.

Frank and Ned were so excited they could scarcely perform their duties, and their immediate superior, seeing this, and knowing what was at stake for them, allowed them time off.

“Say!” exclaimed Ned, as he and Frank went to a quiet part of the deck, “do you really think it’s what we hope it is?”

“Well, I—hope so,” his brother answered, slowly.

They did not have long to wait before hearing the good news. A messenger summoned them to the captain’s office. They had never been there, for it is not often that the commander of a great battleship has a personal interview with an enlisted man. So Ned and Frank spruced themselves up, and went to the appointed place. They found Captain Decker and several of his officers standing about a table, over which had been spread an oilskin coat, and on this reposed the wet, open box. It had been full of papers, which were scattered about the table. And so watertight was the tin case that the documents were scarcely damp from their immersion.

“You are the Arden brothers, are you not?” asked the captain.

“Yes, sir,” answered Frank and Ned, saluting in their best manner.

“Well, I have heard something of your story, and also something of the strange way in which this box was found. I suppose, by some strange trick of fate, we came to anchor near where it was thrown into the bay, and it may have drifted upon our anchor.

“But what you are most interested in is whether or not the box contains any papers that will prove your uncle’s innocence, and restore to him his fortune and yours; is that not so?” asked Captain Decker.

“That’s it—you bet!” exclaimed Ned, impulsively, and then he blushed as the officers laughed at him. No, Ned did not exactly blush, for he was too tanned for the red to show. But he felt “blushy.”

“Well, I am very happy to inform you,” said the captain, trying to speak formally, though there was a smile on his lips and a twinkle in his eyes, “I am happy to inform you that I have examined the papers and from what I know of the revolution and the rebels, I am sure that these papers, so strangely recovered, will completely prove that your uncle had no hand in it. There are also papers which show there was a conspiracy against him fostered by Bernardo. I am sure when the federal authorities see these documents they will at once free your relative, and judgments in the damage suits against him must be reversed, because he was in no way responsible.”

“Good!” cried Frank, and this time he felt “blushy,” for every one looked at him.

“If you like, I will keep these papers for you,” the captain went on, “and put them in the proper hands.”

“I wish you would,” Frank said.

“And further, if you wish, you may prepare a cablegram to send to your uncle,” the commander continued. “I will give orders that it is to be rushed through, and relayed by the government wireless if necessary. For it will be some time before we reach the vicinity of Atlanta,” the captain went on.

“It is very kind of you, and we’ll write the message at once,” Frank said.

“I am only too glad to serve you,” the captain responded. “I have had very good reports of the conduct of yourself and your brother in our recent trouble, and it gives me pleasure to inform you that you two are among those recommended for promotion.”

The captain saluted formally, Frank and Ned, their hearts burning with joy, returned it, and then, turning stiffly, and in the most approved manner, they marched out.

Outside the captain’s office they were provided with a cable blank, and at once wrote a message to their uncle in the federal prison at Atlanta, telling him the good news, adding that there was no doubt he would soon be freed.

And then, this having been done, the great battleship proceeded on her way back North, and to the waters of the United States. The revolution had been put down, the rightful government was in full control, the ringleaders, including the rascally Bernardo, were in jail, and the American business men and residents were in no more danger. The Georgetown had accomplished her mission.

Of the journey up nothing of great moment occurred. The usual drills were held, and they had an added significance, now that those who took part in them realized how much they meant when actual conditions of warfare were encountered. Of course, there were some sad hearts, for gallant comrades had fallen in battle, but theirs was a glorious end, and they had died fighting for the honor of their country. And the honor had well been upheld.

The wounded recovered, and though Frank’s leg pained him occasionally, it was not of any seriousness. Ned’s wound healed completely.

Once again the equator was passed, but there was only a mild celebration. Every one had been initiated, and there was a feeling of sadness as those shipmates were recalled who had taken part in the former fun, but who now had been left behind.

A stop was made at Havana on the way back, and Captain Decker gave the papers, establishing Mr. Arden’s innocence, to a special messenger to take to Atlanta in order that the prisoner might be more quickly freed.

Then the battleship proceeded, but before she reached New York, a wireless message was received for Ned and Frank. It was from their uncle, and read:

“Cleared. Leave for New York to-day. Will meet you there on arrival of battleship. Can’t thank you enough. Fortunes safe.”

“Hurrah!” cried Frank.

“Two hurrahs!” echoed his brother.

“Count me in and make it three!” shouted Hank, the former bully, who was now the battleship boys’ firm friend. In fact, all their chums rejoiced with them.

And now my story is almost at an end. The Georgetown reached New York in time to take part in a grand naval pageant on the Hudson River. There she was anchored along with other sea-fighters, submarines and torpedo boats, and received many visitors. She was an object of great interest, because her part in the recent South American revolution was known through published accounts.

And best of all, one day Mr. Arden came on board. He was a well-known man from the moment he announced himself, and the captain entertained him in his cabin. Thither Frank and Ned went and there clasped hands with their father’s brother, who had endured so much wrongfully, but who had been freed largely through the hard work and the good luck of the two battleship boys. For, after all, luck had played a big part in the affair.

“And is everything all right, Uncle Phil?” asked Frank.

“Everything,” was the answer. “As soon as the authorities received those papers from the tin box they released me. I knew I was innocent, but it was hard to get proof. The papers were the very documents needed.

“I had no idea this Bernardo was such a scoundrel, or I would never have done business with him. However, all’s well that ends well. And I cannot complain of my treatment by the federal authorities. But I was worried for a time, not only about myself, but about you boys.”

“Oh, we made out all right,” boasted Ned.

“So I hear,” laughed his uncle. “Besides saving me you covered yourselves with glory.”

“We didn’t think so the time we let those pickpockets rob us,” remarked Frank. “We felt like a couple of very foolish lads then.”

“Did you ever hear anything of those rascals?” questioned the uncle, with interest.

“Not a word. Fact is, we didn’t get much chance to follow the matter up after we joined the navy.”

“I see. It is a pity. Such rascals ought to be placed behind the bars. They are a constant menace to honest folks.”

“Maybe the police captured those fellows while we were away,” suggested Ned. “I think I’ll make some inquiries. They may have pawned dad’s watch. I’d like to get that back even if we didn’t get our money. I’m going to inquire.”

And he did, with the result that he did recover the watch where one of the thieves had pawned it. But the money was gone forever, and the thieves were never brought to book for the crimes against Frank and Ned for the reason that these two rascals were already serving a term in prison in another state.

“Well, since our fortunes are recovered, we have plenty of money, boys,” said Mr. Arden to his nephews one day when they had shore leave and were out to dinner with him. “I can buy your discharge from the navy, if you like.”

“No, sir!” exclaimed Frank. “I’m going to serve out my four years at least. Uncle Sam’s navy is the finest place in the world, and I’m learning more than I would at college. I’m going to stick!”

“So am I!” added Ned.

And stick they did.