Chapter XII

ARE YOU WINSTANLEY?

The bow of the English freighter Port Elizabeth was plowing its way through the broad waves of the Pacific on the evening of the fourteenth of September. The captain and the first mate were keeping a sharp lookout on the bridge, for they were approaching San Francisco. The steamer had taken a cargo of machinery and rails on board at Esquimault for San Francisco, as was duly set forth in the ship's papers. In Esquimault, too, the second mate enlisted, though the captain was not particularly eager to take a man who carried his arm in a sling. Since, however, he could find no one else to take the place of the former second mate, who had gone astray in the harbor saloons of Victoria, the captain engaged the volunteer, who called himself Henry Wilson, and thus far he had had no cause to regret his choice, as Wilson turned out to be a quiet, sober man, thoroughly familiar with the waters along the Pacific coast.

Wilson was in the chart-room, carefully examining the entrance to San Francisco; suddenly he turned and called through the open door to the captain on the bridge: "Captain, we are now eight miles from the Golden Gate; it's a wonder the Japs haven't discovered us yet."

"I should think they would station their cruisers as far out as this," answered the captain.

"After all, why should they?" asked Wilson, "there's nothing more to be done here, and the allies of our illustrious government can scarcely be asked to show much interest in an English steamer with a harmless cargo."

Wilson joined the captain and the first mate on the bridge, and all three leaned against the railing and tried through their glasses to discover the fires of the Golden Gate through the darkness; but not a gleam of light was to be seen.

"I don't believe we'll be allowed to enter the harbor at night," began the first mate again, "more especially as our instructions are to reach the Golden Gate at noon."

"Yes, but if the engines won't work properly, how the devil can they expect us to be punctual!" grumbled the captain.

"Look," cried Wilson, pointing to the blinding flash of a searchlight in front of them, "they've got us at last!" A few minutes later the brilliant bluish white beam of a searchlight was fixed on the Port Elizabeth.

"We'll keep right on our course," said the captain rather hurriedly to the man at the helm, "they'll soon let us know what they want. Wilson, you might get the ship's papers ready, we'll have visitors in a minute."

Scarcely had Wilson reached the captain's cabin when a bell rang sharply in the engine-room, and soon after this the engines began to slow down. When he returned to the bridge, the masts and low funnels of a ship and a thick trailing cloud of smoke could be seen crossing the reflection of the searchlight a few hundred yards away from the Port Elizabeth. Then a long black torpedo-boat with four low funnels emerged from the darkness, turned, and took the same course as the freighter. A boat was lowered and four sailors, a pilot and an officer stepped on board the Port Elizabeth.

The captain welcomed the Japanese lieutenant at the gangway and spoke a few words to him in a low tone, whereupon they both went into the captain's cabin. The Jap must have been satisfied by his examination of the ship's papers, for he returned to the bridge conversing with the captain in a most friendly and animated manner.

"This is my first mate, Hornberg," said the captain.

"An Englishman?" asked the Japanese.

"No, a German."

"A German?" repeated the Jap slowly. "The Germans are friends of Japan, are they not?" he asked, smiling pleasantly at the first mate, who, however, did not appear to have heard the question and turned away to go to the engine-room telephone.

"And this is my second mate, Wilson."

"An Englishman?" asked the Jap again.

"Yes, an Englishman," answered Wilson himself.

The Japanese officer looked at him keenly and said: "I seem to know you."

"It is not impossible," said Wilson, "I have been navigating Japanese waters for several years."

"Indeed?" asked the lieutenant, "may I inquire on which line?"

"On several lines; I know Shanghai, I have been from Hongkong to Yokohama in tramp steamers, and once during the Russian war I got to Nagasaki—also with a cargo of machinery," he added after a pause. "That was a dangerous voyage, for the Russians had just sailed from Vladivostock."

"With a cargo of machinery," repeated the Japanese officer, adding, "and you are familiar with these waters also?"

"Fairly so," said Wilson.

"Have you any relatives in the American Navy?" asked the Jap sharply.

"Not that I know of," answered Wilson, "my family is a large one, and as an Englishman I have relatives in all parts of the world, but none in the American Navy, so far as I know."

"Mr. Wilson, you will please take charge of the ship under the direction of the pilot brought along by the lieutenant. Mr. Hornberg's watch is up," said the captain, and went off with the Jap to his cabin.

Five minutes later the captain sent for the first mate, who returned to the bridge almost directly, saying: "Mr. Wilson, I am to take your place at the helm. The captain would like to see you."

"Certainly," answered Wilson curtly. The captain and the Jap were sitting together in the cabin over a glass of whisky. "The lieutenant," said the captain, "wants to know something about Esquimault; you know the harbor there, don't you?"

"Very slightly," answered Wilson, "I was only there three days."

"Were there any Japanese ships at Esquimault when you were there?"

"Yes, there was a Japanese cruiser in dock."

"What was her name?"

Wilson shrugged his shoulders and answered: "I couldn't say, I don't know the names of the Japanese ships."

"Won't you sit down and join us in a glass of whisky?" said the captain.

"What did you do to your arm?" asked the Japanese.

"I was thrown against the railing in a storm and broke it on the way from Shanghai to Victoria."

A long pause ensued which was at last broken by the Jap, who inquired: "Do you know Lieutenant Longstreet of the American Navy?"

"I know no one of that name in the American Navy."

The Jap scrutinized Wilson's face, but the latter remained perfectly unconcerned.

"You told the captain that you've been in San Francisco often," began the Jap again; "on what line were you?"

"On no line, I was at San Francisco for pleasure."

"When?"

"The last time was two years ago."

"May I see your papers?"

"Certainly," said Wilson, getting up to fetch them from his cabin.

The Japanese studied them closely.

"Curious," he said at last, "I could have sworn that I've seen you before."

Then he glanced again at one of the certificates and looking up at Wilson suddenly, over the edge of the paper, asked sharply: "Why have you two names?"

"I have only one," returned Wilson.

"Winstanley and Wilson," said the Jap with a decided emphasis on both names.

"I'm very sorry," said Wilson, "but I don't know anyone of the name of Winstanley, or whatever you called it. The name cannot very well be in my papers."

"Then I must be mistaken," said the Jap peevishly.

Wilson left the captain's cabin and went up to the bridge, where he drew a deep breath of relief.

The pilot gave directions for the ship's course, and the torpedo-boat steamed along on her port side like a shadow.

"I wonder why we have a wireless apparatus on board?" asked Hornberg.

"It never occurred to me until you mentioned it. I imagine it's merely an experiment of the owners," answered Wilson. Then they both lapsed into silence and only attended to the pilot's directions for the ship's course.

Wilson presently looked at his watch and remarked: "We must be about two miles from the Golden Gate by this time."

"It's possible," said Hornberg, "but as all the ships use shaded lights, it's a difficult thing to determine."

"Can we enter the harbor by night?" he asked of the Japanese pilot.

"Yes, sir, whenever you like, under our pilotage you can enter the harbor by day or night."

"How's that?"

"You'll see directly."

At this moment the torpedo-boat's siren bellowed sharply three times, and immediately the red lights at the masthead and the side of a steamer about half a mile off became visible, and the bright flash of her searchlight was thrown on the Port Elizabeth. The pilot sent a short signal across, which was immediately answered by the Japanese guardship.

"Now you'll see the channel," said the pilot to Wilson, "it's really an American invention, but we were the first to put it to practical use. We can't possibly lose our way now."

"Yes, captain, you'll see something wonderful now," said the lieutenant, as he came on the bridge with the captain. "You'll open your eyes when you see us steering through the mines."

Suddenly a bright circle of light appeared on the surface of the water, which was reflected from some source of light about ten yards below the surface. "It's an anchored light-buoy," explained the lieutenant, "which forms the end of the electric light cable, and there to the right is another one. All we have to do now is to keep a straight course between the two rows of lantern-buoys which are connected with the cable, and in that way we'll be able to steer with perfect safety between the mines into the harbor of San Francisco." And indeed, about a hundred yards ahead a second shining circle of light appeared on the water, and further on a whole chain of round disks was seen to make a turn to the left and then disappear in the distance. The same kind of a line appeared on the right. Half an hour later three bright red reflections, looking like transparent floating balls of light filled with ruby-red, bubbling billows, marked a spot where the helm had to be turned to port in order to bring the ship through a gap in the line of mines. Thus the Port Elizabeth reached San Francisco early in the morning. She did not make fast at the quay, but at the arsenal on Mare Island, her crew then being given shore leave. When the last man had gone, the Port Elizabeth, unloaded her cargo of machinery and rails which, in the hands of the Chinese coolies, was transformed into gun-barrels, ammunition and shells in the most marvelous manner. "Le pavilion couvre la marchandise, especially under the Union Jack," said Hornberg sarcastically, as he watched this metamorphosis, but the captain only looked at him angrily.

That was the second time during the war that Captain Winstanley of the United States Navy, and late commander of the battleship Georgia, saw San Francisco, whence he had escaped by night from the naval hospital two months before. The Japanese lieutenant was the same who had received the word of honor of the officers on board the hospital ship Ontario on May eighth, and to whom Winstanley had refused to give his. Two months after his voyage as second mate on board the Port Elizabeth, which enabled him to gather information concerning the Japanese measures for the defense of San Francisco, Winstanley stood on the bridge of the battleship Delaware as commander of the second Atlantic squadron. And four months later the name of the victor in the naval battle off the Galapagos Islands went the rounds of the world!