CHAPTER XXVII. ORDERED HOME.
"Ow-yow!" yawned Midshipman Robert Starr in the wardroom of the Osprey. "I'm tired of this dodging back and forth between two fires, with no chance for a slap at either of them. We might have got up a good scrap over Junk, here," he added, patting the Newfoundland's broad head, and looking reproachfully at Liddon.
The dog yawned, as if in sympathy with the young officer, and stretched himself at full length on the deck, his paws under the mess-table.
"You're teaching our coloured friend bad manners, Bob," laughed the ensign, giving Junk a playful push with his foot. "Get up, there, you old peripatetic door-mat, and muster on the forecastle. There's no room for yawners down here."
"I consider that remark personal," retorted Bob, as he rose. "I'm going to—" Here he was interrupted by the entrance of a marine, who announced that the captain wished to see his officers in the after cabin.
"What's up now, I wonder?" said Staples, leading the way to the commander's quarters.
"Oh, another wildly exciting cruise to Woosung or Chemulpo, or Chefoo, or some other old Che," sighed Starr. "I never was very fond of cheese, anyway!"
When they entered the cabin their undignified deportment was laid aside.
Rexdale's eyes were sparkling. He evidently had important and pleasurable news to communicate.
"Gentlemen," said he, "I have just received orders from the Department. The Osprey is to change her station once more." Bob groaned softly, under his breath. "This time," continued Dave, "our port of destination is not Cavite or Shanghai. We are to sail due east. We are ordered home!"
Every officer sprang to his feet. "Hurrah!" shouted Bob, forgetful alike of dignity and discipline. "I beg your pardon, sir," he stammered, the blood rushing to his cheeks; "but that's grand news! If the Secretary were here I'd hug him!"
The commander now explained that the Osprey was ordered to proceed to Mare Island, where she would be thoroughly overhauled, renovated, and practically remodelled. She was old-fashioned, but the Department believed they could make of her a valuable defence ship, in accordance with modern ideas of ship-building. As soon as she should go out of commission her officers and crew were to report, some on various war-ships in the eastern Pacific, some for shore duty, and still others, including the three officers of highest rank, at Washington, where they would be assigned to new duties. Bob's face fell a little at this announcement, but he was happy in the thought of a change, and a sojourn in home waters. Little Dobson was one of those who were to go on shore, and he had visions of a leave of absence which would give him time to race across the continent to his own home and that of a certain commandant whose daughter was named Mary. By the next mail letters went to Wynnie and Edith Black, from Bob Starr and Liddon respectively. It is needless to say that Dave wrote to Hallie within two hours after the receipt of the orders. The news quickly spread through the ship, and great was the rejoicing.
While the Russian fleet was irresolutely moving to and fro in Eastern waters, and Linevitch, having succeeded Kouropatkin, was reorganising his shattered army and preparing for a new encounter with the victorious Oyama south of Harbin, the women of Japan worked unceasingly for home and country.
The great military hospital at Hiroshima comprised eight divisions, with a total capacity of seventeen thousand beds. In the largest of the divisions a visitor merely passing the foot of each bed would walk six miles. Nearly all of these beds were now occupied, and Red Cross nurses from the United States passed to and fro among the sufferers, side by side with their dark sisters of the Orient, in gentlest ministration.
Fred Larkin had soon recovered sufficiently to be removed to private quarters, from which, pale and emaciated, but with indomitable pluck and returning energy, he emerged a few weeks later. Letters from the Bulletin recalled him to Massachusetts, and he unwillingly obeyed, realising that the great naval battle was close at hand. He read the news of the destruction of the Russian fleet the day after his arrival in San Francisco.
In a small room—one of those set apart for officers—a Japanese soldier lay on a cot bed, gazing languidly out of the open window toward the east. Walls, counterpane, and the single garment—a kimono—which the patient wore, were of spotless white. Beside the bed sat a little nurse, fanning the sick man, who now and then spoke to her in his own language, though so quietly that his attendant could scarcely hear him.
"O-Hana-San——"
"Yes, Oshima, I am here!"
"The time?"
"It is morning—five o'clock."
The sick man was silent for a few moments. Then his eye fell upon a streak of gold which fell upon the wall.
"Ah!" he said softly, "the rising sun!"
Again he was silent. When he spoke once more he turned his head toward the girl and looked into her eyes.
"And—you must go—you must leave me, Hana?"
"Yes," she answered sorrowfully. "I am ordered. The naval hospital at Sasebo is crowded with new patients from the great sea battle. There are not nurses enough. I am ordered to go to-day."
"If you find Oto—tell him—Oshima sends his love by O-Hana-San. Tell him Oshima—is—ordered home! Banzai dai Nippon!"
His eyes closed. O-Hana-San bent over him, then hurried for the surgeon on duty.
"He will not waken," said that official. "He was a brave man."
Two days later a grey-haired man passed slowly out of the door of the villa that had been the home of Oshima's boyhood, in the little town by the sea. He paused beside a red slab which was posted before the house, and on which was written, in Japanese characters, "Gone to the Front." Then he stooped painfully and placed beside the first post another, like many in that village, and before other homes, all over Japan. It was black, and bore the simple inscription, "Bravery Forever."
"Oto, Oto Owari! It is I! See, it is O-Hana-San! I have come to help you—to make you well!"
Oto opened his eyes and turned his bandaged head on the pillow. His little playmate of years gone by was kneeling beside his cot, her great brown eyes moist and pleading—pleading with him not to die, not to join Oshima in the strange unknown shadows to which he had gone. She was quite satisfied that her hero should be deprived of the inscription "Bravery Forever"—for the present at least!
It was a hard fight for life, but the good surgeon of the ward, and the girl's unceasing care, and Oto's own fine constitution and determination to live for her, won the victory. While many died on every side, and the mournful stretchers came and went, and the black posts increased in number throughout the empire, the young commander steadily grew better, until he was discharged "well"; to take his place once more, with higher rank, on the quarter-deck of a fine new cruiser. On the day when he left the hospital he married O-Hana-San. On that same day, the fifth of September, 1905, the Treaty of Peace between Russia and Japan was signed by the envoys of the two countries at Portsmouth, New Hampshire.
Two weeks after the great battle of the Sea of Japan a war-ship, with hull white as snow, was ploughing the waters of the Pacific with her prow pointed due east. Land was still in sight astern, and over her taffrail floated the beautiful Stars and Stripes. The Osprey was homeward bound.
THE END.